Why Does Distance Make Us Wise?
by the-fraulein
Summary: PreRENTfiction. Rated R for language and sex. Mark and Roger separate after high school with a lot of unresolved issues between them. They meet again in NYC a few years later both very different people. I bring you my 60 chapter epic. COMPLETED.
1. You're Better Than This

Summary: Pre-RENT. Rated R for language and probably other junk. Mark and Roger separate when Roger graduates with a lot of unresolved issues between them. They meet again in NYC a few years later and happy slash ensues. (well not really, but shit happens.)  
  
Notes: This is the beginning of my newest epic, thank you kindly to all those who read and reviewed 'From The Soul Of A Young Man', I hope you all enjoy this one just as much. It's a little strange, there are two POVs (Mark and Roger) but Roger's is present day(pre-rent) and Mark's is in the past (while they were in high school). So I'll put the little helper title on the first two chapters but after that figure it out. Also, my timeline of events (particularly when April died and Roger got AIDS) might be a little different than what it is in most stories, but I don't think it's that crazy and it doesn't throw anything completely off. Ok? Super! Enjoy!  
  
Oh and yes I originally intended to only post the first two chapters, but since my precious compy (or I guess just the internet connection) decided to have another bitchy fit tantrum I had a few extra days to make crazies. Therefore here are chapters 1-5. It'll only be a few at a time after this hopefully.  
  
Chapter 1 -You're Better Than This-  
  
+Roger's POV+ -present-  
  
My head rests against the cold brick behind it. I lay sprawled on the ground, one arm draped across my stomach, the other out beside me. I take a moment to glance at my tracks, wondering when the last time I had a hit was. It was either yesterday or this morning, maybe earlier, later. . . it' s been too long either way. I move my arm slightly and it bumps something and I turn my head to look, but it's only my guitar case. I'd forgotten I still have it. I haven't played it in months and I keep leaving it in alleyways. I'm surprised it's still around. For a moment I consider selling it.  
  
I feel my pains coming on, the ones I get when I've gone too long without a hit. My stomach clenches and I shiver slightly. It's almost winter, and it's really not that cold yet, but my shivers aren't caused by the weather. There's a man approaching, bundled in a large coat, a scarf tight around his neck. He's filming, filming the street, the people, a few birds. He doesn't really appear to know what's happening around him, despite the fact he's capturing every moment in his camera. Maybe he's got some money.  
  
"Hey, hey you!"  
  
He looks around, then down at me. He looks surprised. Something in his face triggers something inside me, but I don't know what. He's good looking, not exceptionally handsome, but he has a nice face, a kind face. He looks so nervous, like I'm going to jump and attack him at any moment. I make an effort to lean back into the wall so I don't look like I'm going for him.  
  
"You have any money? I'll blow you for money." I say. It's my usual tactic, I'm not embarrassed by it anymore, though I used to be. It's usually what people want. Especially the assholes that deal. I'm able to look him directly in the eye while I say it. He blushes and looks away, then starts walking again.  
  
"C'mon man, you need some love, I need some life. Even trade."  
  
He shakes his head sharply, and moves to continue. I reach out to him as he passes, my hand brushing the leg of his pants. He stops and looks over at me.  
  
"Please." I whisper.  
  
He's staring at me intently, his brow furrowed. Then his eyes snap open with understanding. I watch him silently, cautious.  
  
"Roger?"  
  
I try to back into the wall, my former confidence gone. "How do you know me?"  
  
His face falls. "You don't remember me."  
  
It's a statement, not a question. He starts to move on, pushing his glasses up on his nose and lowering his head in a way that, now that I think about it, is very familiar.  
  
"Wait!" I call out. I struggle to my feet, using the wall for support. He looks back at me, his face more than somewhat crestfallen and hurt. I take a step toward him, but stop when he backs away. That face, I remember now those glasses. The eyes that were always downcast, except when he smiled, if he ever did. Think, think. Something to do with music, my guitar. School musicals, talent show, tech crew, the stage, yes!  
  
"Mark!"  
  
His face gets lighter and he allows a small smile. I'm shaking my head.  
  
"The drugs, Mark, the drugs." I lift a scarred arm and tap my head with a finger. "I don't remember things too good anymore."  
  
He frowns again and looks at the ground.  
  
"What happened to you?" He asks in a quiet voice.  
  
I lean against the wall and shove my hands in my pockets. I shrug and sigh loudly.  
  
"The guys in the band did it, she did it. I just, I just wanted to be a part of it all."  
  
"She? April?"  
  
I nod and look at the ground. "She's dead, Mark."  
  
Shock registers on his face. "Dead? How. . ."  
  
I look up in his eyes. "She killed herself, slit her wrists in our bathroom. She had AIDS."  
  
"AIDS? But. . ."  
  
"So do I." I close my eyes so I don't have to see the look on his face.  
  
"What! Roger what did you do to yourself?"  
  
"Do you have any money?"  
  
"What!"  
  
"Money, I need. . ."  
  
"Jesus, Roger! No! I'm broke!"  
  
"Oh." I look back at the ground and then out at the other people on the street. He doesn't seem as interesting as before.  
  
"Roger? ROGER!" He's yelling, snapping his fingers in front of my face.  
  
"What?" I say, irritated. There's really only one thing on my mind now.  
  
He grabs my hand. "Come home with me Roger, please. You're better than this."  
  
I look over at him.  
  
"Where do you live?" He asks me.  
  
I smirk and gesture at the ground and my guitar. "Here, anywhere."  
  
He looks almost angry. "Here! Roger please, come with me." He's pulling me now.  
  
I shake my head. "You don't want me where you are."  
  
"Yes I do! I want you anywhere but here." His eyes go to the ground. "I've missed you."  
  
I pull my arm from him, slowly.  
  
"I'm not the same, Mark. You don't know me anymore."  
  
He moves closer and hesitantly touches my face. His fingers trace the outline of my jaw before he lays his palm flat against my cheek.  
  
"Please, just for a minute then. You can eat something, get warm, we can talk. . ."  
  
The look in his eyes stirs more memories and emotions from the past. What exactly. . . he was my friend, friends at first. Then, summer, he had told me something, I had. . . I had kissed him. We were together. Together and then I graduated and left. I haven't seen him for 3 or maybe 4 years. I think he went to college or something for a while.  
  
I find myself nodding at him, and following when he pulls on my hand. I draw back for a moment, and he whips around, but I'm only grabbing my guitar. The case keeps hitting my legs when I walk. I only keep it out of habit. Why don't I just sell it? I'd have enough money for a few hits at least. I try to think where I can sell it, but Mark starts to pull me in a different direction, around a corner, and I lose track of my thoughts. He keeps turning around to glance at me, like his grip isn't enough to assure him of my presence.  
  
"Where the hell are we going, Mark?" I wheeze a few blocks later. I'm exhausted, this is the most activity I've had in months.  
  
"It's not much farther." He says, looking back at me again. He stops walking and I run into him.  
  
"What the?"  
  
"Do you need a break?" He asks.  
  
I shake my head, breathing hard. "No, I'm just going to. . ."  
  
I fall to my knees and my face hits the ground. I hear Mark yell my name and then his hands shaking my body but I close my eyes and ignore it.  
  
+++  
  
Notes Continued: And that's just the beginning. Please let me know if I've made any errors (grammatical or spelling), cause I suck at that stuff. 


	2. I Don't Bother Watching

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter.  
  
Notes: Now remember kiddies, this is back when the boho boys were in high school. Aww, and Maureen too.  
  
Chapter 2 -I Don't Bother Watching-  
  
+Mark's POV+ -past-  
  
"Mark, close the back curtain."  
  
I stop moving set props from the musical last week out of the way in the wings and go to the curtain pulls. Slowly I pull on the cord and the curtain slides across the stage, colliding gently when the two sides meet in the middle. Maureen's on stage right now, dancing wildly to techno music. After dragging me to some artsy club last month she's suddenly decided to be an interpretive dancer, at least for the moment. I don't bother watching, I've seen every version of it since she started planning two weeks ago. I go back to moving the remnants of the set out of the way and start packing some costume pieces that got left backstage into a box.  
  
Sometime during this Maureen gets off stage and they call another name. I start carrying the box of costumes across stage to bring it back to the dressing rooms and I see that this time it's a blond guy that I've seen a few times before, particularly during the musical. He had one of the leads and also a really great voice from what I remember. He's sitting down with an acoustic guitar but there's no mic in front of him. I set the box down and pull one over from the opposite side of the stage and set it in front of him, adjusting it so it'll pick up both the guitar and his voice. I tap it and it responds so I get up to leave. He smiles at me, but I lower my eyes and walk away. I pick up my box again and as I'm leaving the stage I hear the first notes carrying throughout the auditorium and then his voice joins the sound and I hurry away before I can get too drawn in, there's got to be something else for me to do away from the stage.  
  
I knock on the door of the girls dressing room and Maureen opens it half-clothed.  
  
I look away. "Jesus, Maureen! Put some clothes on!"  
  
She rolls her eyes. "This is a dressing room Marky. What do you want?"  
  
I dig around in the box and pull out the only two pairs of pants and then shove the box full of dresses and shoes at her, averting my eyes. "Here, these go in there."  
  
She takes it and opens the door further. "Something bothering you, Marky? Do you want to come in and talk?"  
  
I shake my head, feeling my face redden and rush away into the boy's dressing room. I can hear her laughing even once I'm inside. All of the other costumes are hung up on hangers, but I'm a techie not a costume manager so I just throw the pants on the shelf above the clothing rack and leave, praying that Maureen has gone back inside and that the blond guy on stage is done.  
  
Stupid talent show, I'll be so glad when the damn dress rehearsal is finished so we can just get it over with tomorrow and start getting ready for the spring play. Then I remember that Maureen would of course audition for it. Damn tech crew, anyway I'm fucked.  
  
Shit.  
  
I duck back into the dressing room, that guy is walking backstage now. I realize my error but it's too late to fix it once he walks in.  
  
"Hey," He says smiling. "Thanks for the mic." He's still holding his guitar and then I notice the case on the floor in the corner. I nod, turning toward the costumes and pretending to be organizing them. I can play costume manager for a moment. I glance at the door. Or maybe I should just make a run for it.  
  
"Hey, I asked you something. You listening?" He isn't angry, but amused. I turn in his direction, my eyes on the ground.  
  
"No, no, sorry. I didn't hear you."  
  
"I asked if you heard my song. I don't know if it's any good or not, they let you in this thing no matter what and I wanted some feedback."  
  
I recall Maureen going on for nearly an hour about how they didn't provide many slots and it was really hard to get one because the auditions were tough and it took a lot of talent. I should of known better.  
  
"Great." I reply, though I only heard the opening. "Great stuff." I start to move toward the door.  
  
"Really? Wow, thanks man." His smile distracts me and I turn to look at him. He's practically beaming. Surprising myself I return the smile and then hurry out the door. 


	3. Why Does It Matter Now?

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter.  
  
Chapter 3 -Why Does It Matter Now?-  
  
+Roger's POV+  
  
I wake up in a bed, Mark's face staring over me the first thing I see.  
  
"Where am I?"  
  
He smiles. "God Rog, you scared the hell out of me. I had one of my roommates help carry you back here."  
  
"Oh." I look around the room, which obviously is Mark's. There're a few cardboard boxes full of old film and I see his camera on the table next to the bed.  
  
"Are you still carrying that thing around?" I gesture to it.  
  
"Yeah." He nods, still smiling. He's about to say something more but I interrupt him when I feel a pain in my stomach.  
  
"Uh, hey Mark? Do you think you could loan me some. . ."  
  
His face darkens. "I know what you're going to ask Roger, and no I'm not going to buy you drugs."  
  
"But Marky. . ."  
  
"No."  
  
I groan and turn on my side in the bed. Bastard. What kind of friend is he if he won't help me when I really need it?  
  
"Rog," His voice is kinder now, much softer. "If I asked you to, would you stop? I mean, you can stay here, I'll help you, but would you?"  
  
"Fuck off, Mark. I need it, I need it to live."  
  
"No you don't! You never needed it before, why does it matter now?"  
  
"Because I know what life feels like with it." I turn back and face him. "With it, April never died, the band never broke up, I never left you. . ." I close my eyes and look away again.  
  
"But Roger,"  
  
"Just no Mark, ok? I can't do it!"  
  
"Then leave. You can stay tonight but I want you gone tomorrow morning."  
  
I open my eyes and glare at him. "Fine. I didn't ask you to bring me here anyway."  
  
"It was so wrong of me to try to give my starving, dirty, homeless junkie friend a place to sleep!"  
  
"Friend? Is that all you consider yourself?"  
  
He flushes and looks away but doesn't answer.  
  
"Marky? Are you in denial or just mad at me?"  
  
He shakes his head fiercely and gets up to leave, but still won't look at me.  
  
"By tomorrow morning, Roger." He says as he's closing the door. 


	4. You're More Interesting

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter.  
  
Chapter 4 -You're More Interesting-  
  
+Mark's POV+  
  
I sit in the lunchroom with a bottle of water and a notebook. I have no creative inspiration at the moment, or ever really, but I'm optimistic. Or idealistic, whichever.  
  
Oh crap, Maureen's coming. I close the blank notebook and slide it over to the edge of the table near the wall. I lean back and allow my head to slam against the wall.  
  
"Marky! Hey Marky!"  
  
She's waving frantically and I smile, however painful it is, and gesture for her to come over. She sets her tray down on the table and sits next to me. My eyes wander to the other side of the empty table, wondering why she didn't go there.  
  
"Are you coming to the talent show tonight, Marky? It's going to be so great!"  
  
"I'm on the tech crew, Maureen, remember? I have to be there."  
  
Her face falls. "But you're not going to see me!"  
  
I sigh. "Maureen, I've seen your dance hundreds of times."  
  
"But not on stage! With the lights and my costume and everything! Please Marky?"  
  
"What do you want me to do? I can't just duck out to watch you."  
  
She crosses her arms and pouts. "Please Marky?" She purposely draws out the words in a whining tone that she knows irritates the hell out of me. I bang my head against the wall again.  
  
"Yeah, fine. Whatever." It's not like I haven't seen it before. Just because I tell her I'm going to doesn't mean I will.  
  
"Oh great!" She reaches over to try to hug me but I pull away.  
  
"Stop it, Maureen!"  
  
"Oh Marky, stop being so depressing." She punches me in the arm and then turns when someone calls her name. She yells something back and picks up her tray.  
  
"I'm gonna go sit by them for the rest of the period, I'll see you tonight!"  
  
I watch her go and then pull my notebook out, but again I'm interrupted.  
  
"That your girlfriend?"  
  
I look up into a pair of green eyes. It's that blond guy from the talent show. Great.  
  
"God no. That's just Maureen."  
  
"Well, 'just Maureen' is pretty fucking hot." He sits beside me and nudges me in the arm. "You should totally ask her out."  
  
I rub my arm wondering what the problem with the other side of the table is.  
  
"I'm not really interested." I tell him, hoping he'll go away if I don't look at him.  
  
He laughs. "So are you friends? Friends with benefits?"  
  
I roll my eyes and shake my head. "We're hardly friends, she just keeps me around so I can tell her how great she is."  
  
He's staring at her and her friends at a table across the room. "Do you?"  
  
"Do I what?"  
  
"Tell her how great she is."  
  
I shrug. "If I'm in a good mood. She's starting to bother me recently." Why am I telling him this? I turn to stare at him, willing him to go away.  
  
"Why's that?"  
  
"Don't you have anyone better to annoy?"  
  
He laughs again, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Better than you? Nah, never!"  
  
"What the fuck does that mean?"  
  
He touches my shoulder, his expression serious. "Hey, relax! I'm just kidding, man."  
  
"Yeah, everyone's 'just kidding'." I push him off and grab my notebook and water and get up to leave.  
  
"Hey! My band's playing this weekend at that club in the next town. Will you go?"  
  
"I don't like clubs."  
  
"Hey, c'mon. I'd really appreciate your input, we're doing a couple originals."  
  
"Can't you find. . ."  
  
"Someone better to bother?" He smiles. "Yeah, probably. But you're more interesting."  
  
"I'll think about it."  
  
"Saturday at 8:30! Bring some friends!"  
  
I smirk to myself as I walk away. What friends? 


	5. Enough Dignity To Be Ashamed

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter.  
  
Chapter 5 -Enough Dignity To Be Ashamed-  
  
+Roger's POV+  
  
When I wake up Mark is sitting on the end of the bed, his back to me. I move slightly and he turns around, I see his eyes are red. I've never really known Mark to cry, except maybe when I told him I was leaving. He comes over to me, kneeling on the floor beside the bed. He takes my hand and rubs his fingers over it gently. Normally I would pull away, but since it's Mark and the pain in his eyes is evident, I allow it.  
  
"I'm sorry." He whispers. "I don't want you to leave. Please stay here."  
  
I look away. "I'm a junkie, Mark. You don't want me here, remember?" I realize for the first time how badly my hands are shaking. Mark notices and holds my hand tighter.  
  
"I don't want to lose you again."  
  
I pull my hand away. "Stop being so fucking weak. I'm going." I get up to leave. I'm reaching for my guitar case when he grabs my arm.  
  
"I love you."  
  
"You don't know me."  
  
I push him away and head out the door. I need a hit so bad.  
  
Someone touches my shoulder as I'm moving toward the main door.  
  
"I'm going, Ma. . ."  
  
I turn around to see not Mark but a tall black guy. He smiles warmly.  
  
"You're Mark's friend." He says in a deep voice. "How you doing? You were pretty out of it yesterday. I had to help, well I had to carry you here." He laughs. "Mark was basically useless."  
  
"I'm fine." I say, moving to leave.  
  
"Going already? I thought Mark said you were staying."  
  
"Well I'm not!" I don't mean to yell, but I can't ignore the pains in my stomach, my veins, my body anymore.  
  
His expression makes a quick transformation from confusion to an apathetic glare. I know he's staring at my arms. I turn around and once again move toward the door, rubbing my arms self-consciously.  
  
"You'd choose that over him?"  
  
"He doesn't mean anything to me," My voice is harsh, but turns quiet. "Not anymore."  
  
"You mean something to him."  
  
"I have to go."  
  
He sighs but doesn't stop me. I hear him knocking on Mark's door as I'm leaving.  
  
+++  
  
I throw the guitar case down by some garbage cans and start looking for The Man. I really don't want to resort to what he'll want, so I'm hoping to find someone else before him, but there's no one around. He's on his usual corner making a deal with a girl who looks about half my age. She's small and she shivers as he hands her a bag. He sees me and waves me over.  
  
"What'll it be, cutiepie?"  
  
I look at the ground. I still have enough dignity to be ashamed of this.  
  
"I don't have any money."  
  
He laughs and I cringe. It's such a critical and humbling sound. I've done this so many times I've lost count, but each time I lose another piece of my pride. I hope there's never a day I feel nothing. I feel him pulling me into an alley and then his mouth crushing mine. I hardly respond but he doesn't seem to care. He opens my pants and turns me around, my face scraping against the brick wall.  
  
When he's finished I hear the sound of a bag hitting the ground. It doesn't sound very full. Bastard. I re-button my pants and start to limp away when I hear voices behind me. I try to ignore them and the fact that I'm terrified. I feel hands grab me again and my clothes rip. Someone seizes the stash from my pocket. They force me to the ground and I hardly protest. What kind of sick pleasure do people find in doing this? I barely notice the pain and my lack of concern frightens me because it means I'm giving up. I'm going to die someday, alone, in a fucking alleyway. Probably after being raped again or beaten, or having my drugs stolen. Fucking drugs, fucking heroin. Fuck April for getting me into it. Fuck me for allowing it.  
  
Something is being forced into my mouth and I accept it, ignoring their taunts, an ongoing drone of hatred and ridicule. I don't even know them. There are three I think, or maybe just two, but it sounds like more. Someone kicks me and another pushes my head into the ground and then they leave. I'm afraid to move, afraid of what else this alley may hold for me. Cautiously I sit up and grab my pants, but the zipper is broken now. When I pull them on they hang open. I grab the material in my fist and hold it closed, my other arm wrapped around my stomach. Something isn't sitting right inside of it, probably from where they kicked me. I run my fingers over my ribs gingerly but they don't feel broken. I stumble back to where I left my guitar, ready to give up and pass out for the night.  
  
Maybe I have the wrong place, it can't not be here. I knock over the cans in my frustration, then run down the alley, checking behind every can. It's not here.  
  
I want to just give up. I fall to my knees in the middle of the alley, my hands colliding with the cracked cement. I'm lost now. I have nothing. Nothing but a crushing addiction and. . .  
  
And Mark.  
  
How did I ever leave him? Why did I ever leave him? I don't know if I remember how to get there. I start in the general direction, following any street that looks familiar. It's probably been a few hours, it's almost dark now. I'm covered in a cold sweat, my body is shaking. It's been more than two days since I've had a hit. That looks familiar.  
  
I think that's it, maybe. How the fuck do I get in? There's no intercom and even if there was I wouldn't know what to do. Is that the window? There's an open window, maybe it's his. I don't think I have enough energy to yell. I lean against the wall, sliding down it till I'm sitting on the cold pavement. I rest my head in my hands.  
  
It's dark when someone kicks me. Not hard, just a nudge.  
  
"What the fuck?" I look up slightly, my vision tired and blurry. I must have fallen asleep.  
  
"You waiting for someone? Or do you plan on sleeping out here?"  
  
"Both." I say weakly, letting my head fall back against the wall.  
  
"We've got room, if you want to come up. . ."  
  
"Maureen." My voice is so tired and soft.  
  
She stares at me, her eyes narrowed, then they widen with understanding a moment later.  
  
"Holy fuck! Roger!"  
  
I nod feebly. I feel a cough coming on and it drains the last of my strength.  
  
"You're all bloody, what happened? Does Mark know you're here?"  
  
I laugh softly, weakly. "If he knew right now I don't think I'd be out here. But yeah, I was here last night."  
  
She starts tugging on my arm, trying to pull me to a standing position. I stumble, my legs not wanting to support me. This is probably as concerned as I've ever seen Maureen, so though I normally would push off someone trying to help me I take advantage of it. I wonder how she can support my weight, but I look down at my body and realize that I'm fooling myself. I have nothing even vaguely reminiscent of a muscle now, and I haven't eaten properly in weeks. I don't remember when I last looked healthy. I'm sure I scare the hell out of her and that I smell too, but she doesn't say anything about it. She opens the door and helps me up the stairs yelling for Collins, who I can only assume is the tall black guy I saw earlier. He comes down the stairs a few moments later and though his face is grim he pulls me away from Maureen and practically carries me up the stairs.  
  
Mark is standing in the doorway and when he sees me his eyes are round and frightened.  
  
"Roger?" He reaches out a hand but Collins nudges him.  
  
"Look out, Mark."  
  
Mark moves and Collins carries me back into Mark's room. He lays me on the bed and then walks out. I don't really blame him for hating me. I hate me too. Even though it's an old, hard mattress I let out a deep sigh when I feel myself sinking into it. It was only last night but I'd already forgotten the feeling of comfort. Mark comes to my side. He touches my arm uncertainly, then takes my hand. I realize the other is still holding my pants together and I figure it's safe to let go now since I'm lying down. Maureen is standing in the doorway, twirling a piece of hair around a finger. She looks like a little girl when she does it. It makes her seem very pretty.  
  
"Do you need something, Marky? For him?"  
  
"Get him some water, Mo. And another blanket."  
  
She leaves and Mark lays his head down on the bed.  
  
"God Rog, what have you done to yourself?"  
  
+++  
  
Notes: To be perfectly honest, I only have a vague outline of what's going to happen. All I know is the general plot. Why did Mark suddenly get so bitter in the last chapter? That wasn't intentional. Ah well, such is life. I'll update soon, review and let me know what you think so far. Thank you! 


	6. Blasphemy Against The Goddess

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter.  
  
Notes: Thank you all so much for the reviews! I know nothing has really happened so far, I'm trying to make my chapters longer so we can get to some real action sooner. I'm trying! Bear with me, I update rather frequently. Thanks again and enjoy!  
  
Chapter 6 -Blasphemy Against The Goddess-  
  
+Mark's POV+  
  
When I get to my room I throw my backpack in a corner and pick up my camera. It's really not a very nice one, I bought it at a resale store last year for $20. I point it out the window for a moment, then turn it on myself.  
  
"Close on Mark, who's life is pointless." I shake my head. "It doesn't have to be, but I don't know how to make it worthwhile." I turn off my camera and throw it on my bed. I lay down beside it on my back.  
  
Everyday is so monotonous. I do nothing of any importance. I don't make any sort of impact on the world, or on anybody, or even on myself. I used to feel something when I held my camera and captured the world around me on film. That used to mean something. Building sets or working the lighting and giving the talent on stage their microphones used to make me feel like a part of what they created. Now I just do it because I feel I have to. It's something I used to enjoy, maybe if I keep it up someday it'll get better. Nothing really seems to matter anymore though.  
  
The phone rings but I ignore it until my mom knocks on my door.  
  
"Mark? Sweetie, it's Maureen."  
  
I roll my eyes. "I don't want to talk to her."  
  
She opens the door and hands me the phone.  
  
"Fine, you tell her that." She says, closing my door.  
  
I hold the phone up to my ear.  
  
"What do you want?"  
  
"Oh, you have to come over here! I just made another adjustment to my costume for tonight! I want to know what you think!"  
  
I sigh heavily. "I'll see it tonight, Maureen."  
  
"Please, Marky? I don't know if I should keep it or not."  
  
"Why don't you just tell me what you did?"  
  
"No! You have to see it! Please?"  
  
"Fine. Whatever."  
  
I hang up and toss the phone onto the floor. Damn, I don't want to see her. Slowly I pull myself off of my bed and pick up the phone.  
  
"I'm going to Maureen's." I yell into the kitchen. I hang up the phone on my way out.  
  
+++  
  
Maureen opens the door wearing her pink sequined bodysuit. Around her waist is a bright blue sash, but that was new last week. Her character shoes are the same, and she still has the same enormous silver hoops and the feathers in her hair.  
  
"So what's new?"  
  
She holds up her right hand. There's an enormous gaudy ring with a fake blue stone that gleams at my unbelieving face.  
  
"You called me here to look at that?"  
  
Her face falls. "You don't like it."  
  
"It's a ring, Maureen, a fucking ring!"  
  
"Marky!"  
  
I roll my eyes and turn around to leave. She grabs my arm.  
  
"Please don't go."  
  
"Maureen, what do you want from me?"  
  
Her eyes get all big and round and then her lower lip starts to tremble. Fuck. I hate it when she cries.  
  
She pulls on my arm and I follow her inside the house. I sit on the couch and she sits next to me then wraps her arms around my neck. I try to recoil, but her grip is too tight.  
  
"Maur. . ."  
  
She pulls away slightly and looks into my eyes. Her mascara is starting to run a little bit and her lashes glisten with tears that haven't yet fallen. I've never seen her look more beautiful. Maureen is one of those rare girls that looks pretty when she cries. Which is why I hate when she does. No one should be their most beautiful when they're sad. But I think that might be where all the beauty in life is. In pain.  
  
"Please Marky, tell me you're going to watch me tonight." She looks down sadly. "They're not going."  
  
"Who's not? Your parents? They can't go?"  
  
"No, they're not going! They could, but they're not!" She falls against me again and starts bawling. So much for the stage makeup she had caked all over her face.  
  
"Please, Mark. I want to know someone's there. That someone cares about me."  
  
I sigh and wrap my arms around her body. Somewhere, somewhere inside I do care about her. I let her cry into my chest, knowing my shirt would be disgusting afterwards, but not really caring. I guess apathy is useful.  
  
I know how her parents can be, they never go to any of her plays or performances. They want her to be a doctor or something that she just doesn't have the ambition for. It doesn't matter to them what she really wants. I know that I'm really her only friend. Those other girls, the ones she'll talk to during class or sit by at lunch are just her fellow choirgirls with hopeless ambitions. They only associate because of their talent. I see them everyday and brand them; receptionist, cashier, store manager, stay-at-home-mom, any mediocre existence for a middle aged woman. All they have in common is their dreams, but what they lack is the ability to chase them. In ten, fifteen, twenty years they'll have children, husbands or failed marriages. A job they have to do, a house they have to work to pay for, pets they have to feed. Wrapped in their family life and their career they'll only remember that they had a pretty voice, that they were complemented by the director, they had a solo in the top choir. And they might regret it, it might make them bitter that what they have isn't what they wanted, but then again it might not.  
  
Maureen won't be like them. She'll make something of what she has. She might never be on Broadway, but she will be an artist. She'll share her talent and do what makes her happy. I feel my indifferent shield to the world crack a little bit. I respect her for it.  
  
"Alright Maureen. I'll watch you." I'm sure someone can check mics and organize shit backstage for a few minutes.  
  
She pulls away and smiles at me, a smile that used to make me feel special. Now it's all I can do to return it.  
  
"Oh, your shirt!" She gets up and walks toward the kitchen.  
  
"Maureen, it's fine." It's really not that bad. I swipe my hand across the stains a few times.  
  
"Stop! You'll rub it in. God Marky, I'm sorry." She wipes at it with a wet cloth.  
  
"It's not a big deal."  
  
She smiles again. "We have to go soon. Will you walk with me?"  
  
"Not if you're wearing that."  
  
She laughs. "Fine, I'll change." I watch her walk up the stairs, she turns for a moment and smiles at me. I force one back and she lets out a giggle and runs the rest of the way. I'm still alive, cause I feel something for her. I know she's my friend, that I'm more to her than she likes to express, I saw that just now and I knew it already. I do care about her, but I don't understand why. Does the goddess just need followers? But I don't worship her anymore. I would never talk to her if she stopped bothering with me. I remember what that guy said about asking her out. I don't feel that way for her, I don't think. I never have. In the past I just wanted to know her, to be on the receiving end of her perfect smile, or have her laugh fill my head and heart with warmth and joy. She is beautiful, and I care about her, I might even love her, but anything else is blasphemy against the goddess. I prefer to think of Maureen as asexual. If she's just a person, not a girl, if she doesn't have sex, she just flirts. I think it's safer that way.  
  
She comes back down the stairs, the ring and her smile winking at me, catching the rays from the slowly setting sun that seep through the window. She has a bag over her shoulder I can only assume holds her costume. She gives my arm a tug toward the door and I follow. It's better just not to think.  
  
+++  
  
Notes Continued: Sorry I sort of rambled on in this chapter. I've decided to make Maureen a large part of this and April eventually will be too. Fear not children, there will be slash yet, but I shall make you squirm and wait! HA! 


	7. It's Always Been Only Him

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter.  
  
Chapter 7 -It's Always Been Only Him-  
  
+Roger's POV+  
  
I open my eyes. Mark's sitting on a folding chair near the bed, asleep. It can't be comfortable and for a moment I wonder why he didn't just lay down on the bed with me.  
  
That might have been more uncomfortable than the chair.  
  
He stirs slightly then and smiles when he sees I'm awake, but it's a pained smile.  
  
"How are you?" He asks softly.  
  
"I've been better." I reply, my voice hoarse and tired.  
  
He comes over to the side of the bed like he did last night.  
  
"What happened, Rog?"  
  
"When? Last night or in general?" I reach my hand out, hoping he'll take it. I suddenly feel the need to touch him. He smiles again, with some emotion this time and takes it. He runs his thumb along my skin, smiling gently.  
  
"Both. Whatever you want to tell me." He looks back up at me, his eyes burning into mine, begging for me to let him in.  
  
"I don't think you want to know."  
  
"Why won't you let me help you?"  
  
"I came back didn't I?" I try to yell but my voice catches and I start coughing.  
  
"Do you want some more water?"  
  
I shake my head weakly. The room is silent for a few minutes until he speaks again.  
  
"What happened to April?" He asks.  
  
"I told you, she had. . ."  
  
"How? How did she get it? How did you get it? Jesus, what did you do?"  
  
"You know, Mark! I'm a junkie! I started shooting up a few months after I got here and last year it got really bad. A couple of months ago when April died it got unbearable. I've been living on the street for two months blowing people for money and letting my dealer rape me for drugs. Is that what you wanted to know Mark?"  
  
I didn't even realize till now that I've pushed him away and stood up. I grab at my pants quickly before they fall and then double over in another coughing fit. He comes to me, breaking out of his stupor and wraps his arms around me. I feel my eyes getting wet and I let the tears fall as he holds me. He rubs my back gently, whispering in my ear. I clutch at him desperately, resting my head on his shoulder. Hesitantly I allow my lips to brush against his neck and he stiffens. Before he can do anything I pull away and bring my lips to his.  
  
He doesn't respond as I kiss him, my lips moving over his and I pull his body to mine. I've missed him, I know now I've missed him.  
  
I pull back, reluctantly, and open my eyes. His expression hasn't changed.  
  
"I love you." I whisper to him.  
  
He looks away. "Roger. . ."  
  
"I'm sorry, Mark. For everything. Anything I've ever done to you, or will do, I'm sorry. I love you and I'm sorry."  
  
I take a deep breath and look at the ground. Fuck, that was hard and if he doesn't say something I think I'm going to have to give up. If I have to see any more hurt in his eyes, any more pain that I've caused I'll lose any will I have left to live. I don't remember the last time I apologized to someone else. Probably never. Only him. It's always been only him.  
  
He looks back at me and I meet his eyes. He sighs but pulls me to him.  
  
"It's alright, it's alright." He whispers to me, holding me tight. It's not all right though. It hasn't been for a long time and probably never will be again. 


	8. Pseudo Depression Incarnate

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Chapter 8 -Pseudo-Depression Incarnate-  
  
+Mark's POV+  
  
I see Maureen walking toward me backstage. I make an effort to smile at her and hope she can see it in the dark. She touches my arm gently and gives me a push; I know she wants me to go to the audience. When the act on stage is finished and the whole room goes black I go through the wing and down the stairs, finding an aisle seat in the second row.  
  
Maureen walks on stage, a spot light opens on her. Her music starts and I watch her move her body across the stage. The music is rather light and happy at first and she plays a fool, leaping and dancing carelessly. The mood eventually grows sinister and at one point she turns and stops, her eyes sweeping over the audience. Her expression is accusatory, angry, critical. Then the music changes again to another more livened tone and her routine mimics the first dance. When she finishes she stands and waves, a large smile spreading over her face. There are only a few spaced out claps at first, then a full applause, however hesitant. I join it and look up at Maureen. She's looking at me, smiling.  
  
Finally she leaves the stage and is replaced by the blond guy with the guitar. I still don't even know his name, why isn't there an MC to announce the acts? It doesn't really matter, but for some reason it bothers me. He grins at the audience and I can feel the mood in the room lift. A handsome guy with a guitar they understand. I watch his fingers move over the neck and then he turns his face toward the mic and starts singing. I listen and despite myself start to get drawn in. In another minute all there is are his hands on the guitar, his voice filling the room and the emotion in his features. I watch him soundlessly, the whole room does, and when he finishes the applause is loud and immediate. His smile is almost shy as he beams back at them. He looks through the crowd and his eyes fall on me. He raises his eyebrows but grins even more. When he walks off I get up and go back to my place backstage.  
  
"Where've you been? You said one act, Mark!"  
  
"Bathroom." I say nonchalantly, taking over the curtain pulls.  
  
"We don't need the curtain anymore." He hands me three mics. "Go put these in the other mic stands on stage and move them close together in the middle."  
  
I take them and go back out in the dark, placing the mics and then arranging them. I hear the next act coming out behind me so I quickly leave just before the lights come up. Some hands me a box backstage.  
  
"Put this in the guys dressing room."  
  
I nod and take it. When I open the dressing room door he's in there. He grins when I walk in.  
  
"I saw you, you know, in the audience. Who're you watching? Me or your girlfriend?"  
  
"Both. She's not my girlfriend." I say bitterly.  
  
"Oh that's right." He winks and nudges my arm as I walk past him. "She's 'just Maureen'."  
  
"Exactly." I say, more defensively that I mean it to be. I shove the box in a corner.  
  
He holds up his hands. "Alright, alright. Just kidding with you."  
  
"Yeah, whatever." I turn to go and he grabs my arm. His expression is serious.  
  
"Look, I'm sorry." His face brightens. "Are you coming tomorrow?"  
  
I shrug and pull away.  
  
"Hey, please? I don't really know who else to ask, I just moved here this year, the only guys I know are in my band."  
  
"That's not my problem."  
  
"Please?"  
  
"I'll think about it."  
  
"That's what you said last time."  
  
Something about the way he continues to smile initiates an emotion I can't describe inside of me.  
  
"Please?"  
  
"Sure." I find myself saying, however reluctantly.  
  
"Really? Great! You know the time right? 8:30?" His grin is frighteningly large. "I'm Roger, by the way."  
  
He holds out a hand. I hesitantly take it. He looks at me expectantly.  
  
"Mark." I sigh. "Mark Cohen."  
  
"You've got no idea how great it is you're going! Do you know anybody else who would?"  
  
I shrug. "Maybe."  
  
"Great!" He says that a lot and it bothers me. What's so 'great' about anything anymore? He checks his watch and his eyebrows go up in surprise.  
  
"I have to go, I'm already late for band practice. I'll see you tomorrow!"  
  
He waves as he leaves. I watch him go, silently wondering how I keep getting into these situations. I hate the feeling he leaves me with. He's so social, amiable. It leaves me feeling like pseudo-depression incarnate.  
  
I find Maureen after the show.  
  
"You did good." I say, almost choking on the complement, however sincere it is. "You want to go to a club tomorrow night?"  
  
+++  
  
Notes: More coming soon, I promise. I think I'm going to start getting into the Roger/April relationship -after- they left soon, but the Roger/April relationship while they were still in high school might be a little farther in the future. I'm trying to hurry up and slash already, but the stupid plot development won't let me! Soon, soon children, is all I can promise. Until then thanks for reading and enjoy! 


	9. We Don’t Need The World

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter.  
  
Chapter 9 -We Don't Need The World-  
  
+Roger's POV+  
  
In the bathroom he gently, cautiously undresses me, I watch his silent horror and when I catch my own reflection I understand why. All of my ribs are visible, I feel my stomach clench in nausea when I realize I can see them through my back as well. My stomach is sunken in, a hollow. There's a long, deep scar on my side and the backs of my legs and other areas of my body are stained with dried and flaking blood. My arms and legs are bones and flesh, the tracks obvious. I've used some veins so many times the skin has hardly healed. There's one on my left hand that sickens me to look at. Hesitating only slightly, he kisses me gently and then leads me into the shower.  
  
He washes my hair for me, my posture so bad by now it doesn't matter how much taller I am. His hands work the soap into my hair, I can't remember the last time I did it myself. He runs his hands over my body, and I watch the dirt and blood swirling down the drain and hope the last few years will go with it. I lean heavily against him, my body trembling. He holds me close, his hands rubbing my back. I'm grateful that he can't tell I'm crying under the water.  
  
He finds clothes of his that fit me, it's not hard because I'm not much bigger than him, and then he leads me to a couch. He sits and pulls me down next to him. The effort of sitting up is too much for me, so I lay down, resting my head in his lap. He pulls a blanket over my body and rests his hand on my head, stroking my hair. I want to forget everything that's happened, every moment I've been away from him.  
  
"Roger?"  
  
I turn so I'm lying on my back and look up at him. He looks sad.  
  
"Please tell me you're not going to leave again." He says softly.  
  
I shake my head, the room wobbling along with it. I feel sick suddenly.  
  
"No, I want to stay here. I want to stay here with you, Mark." I reach up a hand and touch his face. My fingers trail over his lips and I see his eyes getting wet. How many more tears are we both going to have to go through? He bites his lip and looks away.  
  
"I don't know if we can have that again, Rog. I just, I want it, I know I do and I think you do too, but I don't know if it's possible."  
  
My stomach is turning violently. I have to get to the bathroom soon.  
  
"I do, Mark. I've missed you. I hate what I did, that I left. I hate that I hurt you and I hate that it didn't seem to matter at the time." He still won't look at me. "Please, Mark. Believe me when I say I'm sorry." I laugh softly. "You know I don't apologize."  
  
He smiles slightly and his eyes meet mine. "I know. I do believe you. And I," He takes a breath. "I love you. I've had nothing since you left. Nothing seems to matter, no one seems to matter, life isn't worth it. Pointless." He lowers his eyes again. "Just like before."  
  
My fingers continue to run over his face, again resting on his lips and tracing the perfect lines they form. I admire every contour, the little lines that split them into sections, their perfect soft pink colour. He has the most beautiful mouth and I long to press my lips against his once more. More than almost anything I've missed that freedom. To kiss him, to hold him when we were together. The obvious and expected contact all couples take advantage of. I never thought a thing about it then, but at this moment it means everything because I don't have it.  
  
"Marky, please. . ."  
  
"And now you're here. You're here but you're not you. You're half dead and you're dying anyway. Why? Why did April start using? Why did you? What were you thinking? What happened to all those times in high school you said you didn't understand people who used? You had a far better life living in reality, remember? What happened?"  
  
He's not angry, he whispers all the words.  
  
I sigh, my stomach clenches tightly.  
  
"Me and April, a month or so after we moved out here, we got together. I was so lonely without you and she was the only person around. The only person I knew still cared about me. The city didn't exactly embrace us like we'd always hoped. Everything was different. The people were indifferent, everything was expensive, we had no one to help us. All we had was each other and one night it just happened and then we were a thing."  
  
"Did you love her?"  
  
I shake my head. "I don't know. I loved her as my friend, I still do. But I don't know if I was in love. I don't think I was."  
  
He nods slightly. I watch him for a moment but he doesn't say anything else.  
  
"She got in contact with a couple of friends and she went out with them one night and when she came back she was high. Really high. I was so angry with her." I smile at Mark feebly. "You remember how wild she was."  
  
He nods and returns my smile, though his is sadder.  
  
"Well, she kept doing it. What could I do? I couldn't throw her out, I couldn't leave. And she was always so happy. She told me it took away all the pain. All I ever thought about was how much I missed you, how stupid I had been and how I would never have the balls to face you again. So I did it. And it did help." I close my eyes, remembering. "That first time, the first couple times, were incredible. The world didn't matter, pain didn't matter. . ." I cringe knowing what my next words would be. "You didn't matter."  
  
"When did you find out?"  
  
"I told you, a few months ago. She killed herself. She left me a fucking note. A fucking note that said 'we've got AIDS'. That's it. No apology, no emotion, just 'we've got AIDS'."  
  
The pain in my stomach is unbearable. I struggle to get up and Mark helps me. I gesture toward the bathroom with my hand over my mouth and he quickly leads me there. I fall to my knees in front of the toilet and gag in front of it. There's nothing in there, all I'm throwing up is blood and it hurts and burns my throat. Mark is right beside me, rubbing my back and my shoulders, telling me I'm ok, I'm alright. I wish he'd stop saying that. He should know it's not true. When I finish he cleans my mouth, my face with a little towel. He smiles at me warmly, and I struggle to return it.  
  
"Do you want to eat something? Drink something?" He asks hesitantly.  
  
I nod slightly. "I'll try."  
  
He leads me to the kitchen and pours me some water and holds up a box of Captain Crunch.  
  
"This ok?"  
  
"I guess so."  
  
He pours me a small bowl. "We don't have any milk."  
  
I shrug. "That's ok."  
  
I take a spoonful into my mouth, but the food hurts going down my throat. I quickly wash it down with water, forcing myself to swallow. He's watching me expectantly and I take a few more mouthfuls, but stop after that and push the bowl back toward him. I down the rest of the water and I feel his arms go around me.  
  
"Why can't you eat?"  
  
I sigh. "I haven't eaten anything decent in like, a month, Mark. It hurts. Just let me get used to it again."  
  
He nods and lays his head against my chest.  
  
"Why can't we just be seventeen again? Why does it seem like the world is against us, Roger?"  
  
I laugh softly and wrap my arms around him.  
  
"We don't need the world, Marky."  
  
+++  
  
Notes: Thank you all so much for your reviews. I promise I'll stick another couple of chapters up over the weekend. But right now I've very tired so I shall pick this up later. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! 


	10. Do You Ever Do Anything Fun?

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Chapter 10 -Do You Ever Do Anything Fun?-  
  
+Mark's POV+  
  
I cough slightly on the air inside the club. I hate smoke. Maureen is pulling on my arm.  
  
"C'mon Marky! The band's starting!"  
  
I roll my eyes, but follow her through the crowd. She pulls me right up front, next to the stage. Roger is just joining the rest of his band, grinning almost shyly at the audience. He catches my eye and his smile becomes more confident.  
  
The sound of this band is far different from what I heard him play at the talent show. The originals they play are harder, a more driving rock, the lyrics meaningless. They seem to enjoy destroying other songs as well by adding heavy guitar solos and a thundering bass line. Roger only sings on about half of the songs and the other guy is horrible. I'm bored by the third song, but Maureen is a regular groupie. I half expect a pair of panties to fly near my head. With that thought I start to move away.  
  
I find my way over to the bar and wonder if I can fool the bartender into giving me something strong.  
  
He glares at me when I sit down.  
  
"No kids over here."  
  
Fuck. I roll my eyes and move away from the bar. I hate being short. I don't want to go back near the stage just yet so I shove my hands in my pockets and find a dark corner to lean in. I really do hate these places. I see someone's left a half full glass of some kind of alcohol on the table near me. Looking around cautiously I go and pick it up. Maybe if I get drunk I won't mind it as much. I hesitantly sip at it. It tastes awful, but the thought of blocking all this shit out is too tempting. I take another sip, a larger one and cough when I pull the glass away.  
  
I finish it and put it back on the table and start searching for more unattended drinks. I lose count eventually and have to start sitting down when I drink them, afraid of the risk of falling if I stood. I lean back heavily in my chair, raising the glass up to my mouth.  
  
"There you are!" Oh fuck.  
  
A hand pulls the glass away from me, and I groan in anger and disappointment. I look up into two pairs of green eyes. It's not Maureen after all, but two Rogers.  
  
"What are you doing?" He sounds amused. But his face doesn't reflect it.  
  
"I feel sick."  
  
"I wouldn't doubt it. C'mon." He grabs me under one arm and pulls me up and starts to lead me somewhere. I find myself in a bathroom. He bends me over the toilet, I feel his hand on my back.  
  
"You alright buddy?"  
  
I start to reply, tell him to just fuck off and leave me alone, but I throw up instead.  
  
"Hey, it's alright. You're ok."  
  
I want to tell him to shut up, that he's not helping, but I wouldn't really mean it. It's kind of nice what's he's doing. I start to sit up and he helps me. He hands me a few paper towels, his eyes wide and round.  
  
"You ok?"  
  
I nod.  
  
He smiles, amused. "You don't need that stuff, Mark. We'll have plenty of fun without it."  
  
I groan. "You sound like a pamphlet."  
  
"Pamphlet? That's a strange word to use if you're smashed." That smile again. His eyes mock me gently. I close my own and then open them, trying to see through my double vision.  
  
"C'mon, 'just Maureen' is waiting. I'll give you guys a ride home. You're too drunk to do anything anyway. Next time, huh?" He says this as he again lifts me up and drags me out of the bathroom. He sounds slightly disappointed, but still happy.  
  
"Jesus, Marky! What the hell did you do?" Maureen rushes to me and touches my arm. I try to look over at her but I feel a pounding in my temple when I move my head so I stop.  
  
"He's just drunk, he'll be fine." Roger tells her. "I'll drive you two home, my car's in the back."  
  
Roger helps me into the backseat, laying me down on the seat. Maureen gets in the front. As we're driving my eyes catch Roger's in the mirror.  
  
"Are you gonna get busted?" He asks.  
  
I try to laugh but instead cough violently. What the hell did I drink?  
  
"Yeah, of course."  
  
He looks nervous. "You know, if you're sober enough to make a phone call you can just stay with me tonight. And we can hang out tomorrow." His expression turns hopeful.  
  
"She'll know." I say. "If I talk to her like this she'll know."  
  
"I'll call for you, Marky." Maureen says. "I'll say you're staying at my house. Helping me with homework." She grins. "That's what you told her about tonight anyway, remember?"  
  
"What if she asks for me?"  
  
She shrugs. "I'll say you're in the shower or something and you'll call her tomorrow. What's the difference if you call from Roger's house or mine?"  
  
"None, I guess." It does sound appealing. At least I know Roger isn't going to give me that 'we're disappointed' speech because of what I did. In fact he'll probably just let me pass out. Which sounds like a excellent idea.  
  
"Alright, sure."  
  
"Great!"  
  
I groan and let my head fall back onto the seat.  
  
+++  
  
I open my eyes slowly.  
  
"Jesus Roger, close the window!"  
  
He laughs. "The blinds are closed. . . Marky."  
  
"Fuck you. God, it's so bright."  
  
"Here, drink some water."  
  
I take the glass. "Will it make my head stop pounding?"  
  
"No, but it'll help get rid of that gross morning after taste in your mouth."  
  
I drink it eagerly, very willing to rid myself of the dry feel of cotton that rests on my tongue. It helps, a little. I sit up more, blinking rapidly and realize I'm on a bed.  
  
"How did I. . ."  
  
"Oh, you passed out there. I figured I'd just let you take my bed. I've got that chair over there in the corner anyway." My eyes follow to where he gestures lazily. There's a large and rather comfortable looking armchair across from the bed.  
  
"Oh, sorry about. . ."  
  
He grins. "Don't worry about it."  
  
Roger's room looks nothing like mine. His bed is just a mattress on the floor. There's a large stereo next to it and beside that a record player. There are various boxes and piles of CDs, cassettes and vinyl spread across the floor in no certain order. On a stand near the door is an electric guitar and a case next to it that I recognize and know holds his acoustic. At the foot of the bed there's a pile of clothes and only a few shirts hanging in his open closet.  
  
My room is always immaculate; my mother would disown me otherwise. I have a bed frame, a nightstand, a dresser and a desk; the wood on all of them matches. All my shirts hang neatly in my closet and anything of mine that doesn't fit into this neat little mold is in coordinated boxes in the bottom of my closet. I hope I never have to bring him to my room  
  
The rest of Roger's house is similar. Not in quite as much disarray, but carelessly organized none-the-less. He's not as well off as my family is and as I walk however unsteadily through his house I start to like it. It looks comfortable, lived in. My house reminds me of a museum.  
  
"Want some cereal?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Cereal." He holds up a box of Captain Crunch and shakes it at me, always that same look of general amusement. We never eat cereal for breakfast in my house.  
  
"Sure." It's like visiting a foreign country here.  
  
"Where are your parents?"  
  
"My mom's at work. She leaves really early. My dad doesn't live with us anymore."  
  
He says it offhandedly, dismissively. I stare at him, our eyes burning into each others.  
  
"Why?" I ask, trying to seem innocent.  
  
For the first time since I've known him he looks almost angry, his face has darkened.  
  
"I'd rather not talk about it." His voice is cold, the tone telling me to back off.  
  
I shrug and take the bowl he hands me. His mood stays for a moment, then he looks at me hesitantly.  
  
"You feeling any better, you want to do something?" He grins. "I have a car, remember? We can go somewhere."  
  
I'd really rather go home, but then I remember my parents would be there, ready with questions and accusations, that I had a backpack full of homework I had yet to do and he had let me sleep, drunk and passed out, in his bed last night.  
  
"Sure. Where?"  
  
He thinks for a moment, then goes across the room and pulls a box out of one of the boxes of vinyl. There's money in it. He counts it out and then looks up at me.  
  
"Any flow?"  
  
I pull a twenty and a ten out of my pocket.  
  
He grins again, wider this time. "Let's drive to the city."  
  
"What city?"  
  
He rolls his eyes. "What city? New York!"  
  
He smiles even more. "Let's get a really cheap motel room and spend the night. Then we can have all day tomorrow to hang out and walk around."  
  
"Tomorrow's Monday."  
  
"So?"  
  
"We've got school."  
  
He laughs. "So?"  
  
"My mother. . ."  
  
"Do you ever do anything fun?"  
  
"No." I answer honestly.  
  
"Tell her you're staying with Maureen again or something."  
  
I'm shaking my head. "She's not going to like it."  
  
"As far as she knows, you're still going to go to school. We'll call ourselves out tomorrow."  
  
"You can do that?"  
  
He rolls his eyes. "Well if you want to be technical, no, but you don't tell them it's you calling."  
  
"Then who?"  
  
"Say it's your dad, genius." He smiles and gives me a gentle punch in the arm. "C'mon, we'll stop by your house so you can get some clothes or whatever."  
  
"Won't your mom care?"  
  
"I'll call her later, say I'm staying with a friend. No big deal." He stops in his doorway and turns around, raising his eyebrows expectantly.  
  
I'm shaking my head at him, but follow anyway.  
  
+++  
  
Notes: This was a way shorter chapter, but since my computer decided to be a champion douchebag and crash and make me break my promise of more weekend chapters, I decided to lengthen it. Next up, the boys in NYC! I think I see some slash glinting off there in the distance, but I guess you'll just have to wait and see.  
  
I've decided to revise the next chapter, so that'll be up tomorrow hopefully. I promise a large update soon. I'm very busy this week though. Sorry! Thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoy it! 


	11. You Were Scared

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes: Aw, Collins is back and he's a lot nicer in this chapter. I rather like this chapter, I hope you do as well. Thank you all for reading/reviewing!  
  
Chapter 11 -You Were Scared-  
  
+Roger's POV+  
  
I can hear Mark talking with Collins through the door. I lift an arm to rub my eyes and realize I'm again covered in sweat. I drop my arm, annoyed. Something tightens in my stomach and for a moment I'm almost sick. Although it's getting better, it's far from over. The worst thing about withdrawal is how my hands shake. They never seem to stop. I'm constantly rubbing my arms or holding onto something or to Mark to try to prevent it, but nothing seems to work. Sometimes their shaking gets so I can't hold a glass or feed myself. It's embarrassing, but then Mark will do it for me and I'll hate myself and wonder how I could ever have left him.  
  
The door opens quietly.  
  
"Roger?" Mark asks softly.  
  
"Mark. . ." Another clench in my stomach.  
  
He comes in and stands next to the bed.  
  
"I feel sick."  
  
"Oh Rog. . ."  
  
He turns away and digs through a pile of clothes. He comes up with some new ones for me and sets them down on the bed. He pulls the blankets off of me and helps me up. Gently he undresses me and helps me put the new clothes on. He takes the extra blanket off of the bed and reaches for my hand, leading me out of the room.  
  
"Come lay out here for awhile."  
  
I nod and follow him.  
  
Collins is standing near the door. He gives me a gentle pat on the shoulder as I pass him. Since I've quit he's been rather friendly. That other guy who lives here is a real asshole though. If I'm in the room he'll excuse himself and flee to the one he shares with Collins. If he does choose to stay around he'll often glare at me or gawk openly when my arms are in his sight. I hate most of all that he is never embarrassed when I catch him doing it. If his eyes ever meet mine he'll just sneer at me or shake his head and look away.  
  
I found out Maureen and Mark used to share a room, but she's been opting to spend her nights at her current boyfriend's apartment since I now spend most of my life in Mark's bed. He won't sleep there with me; instead he'll usually take the couch or bring a chair into the room if I feel especially bad.  
  
He leads me to the couch and sits me down. He starts to move away and I reach for him, but he only smiles gently.  
  
"I'll be right back."  
  
I nod and lean into the worn cushions. He returns with a glass of water and a pill. I stare at it blankly.  
  
"What the hell is that?"  
  
"AZT. Collins bought you a bottle."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"For your HIV, it'll help."  
  
"Oh." I have heard of it before, I never imagined I'd be using it.  
  
"Isn't that expensive?"  
  
I hear Collins laugh as he walks back into the room.  
  
"Not where I get it."  
  
I take the pill from Mark, look at it hesitantly, then put it in my mouth. Taking a drink from the glass I swallow it.  
  
"Thank you." I say to Collins.  
  
He gives me another pat on the shoulder, grinning.  
  
"No problem. With what you're going through, you need all the help you can get."  
  
I try to return his grin, however weak mine turns out. He doesn't seem to mind, however. He grins again, this time in Mark's direction.  
  
"I think this couch pulls out." He tells him. Mark smiles. He motions for me to get up and I do, and lean against the wall.  
  
"Help me." Mark says to Collins. They remove the cushions and open up the couch, revealing a small mattress.  
  
Mark leads me back to it and I sit down, leaning against the cushions and stretching out my legs. Mark sits beside me and Collins spreads the blanket over us. He checks the cheap digital clock across the room and then turns back to us.  
  
"Well I'm off, you kids have fun." He smirks at us on his way out, waving once more before leaving.  
  
I move closer to Mark, despite the warm blanket I'm still cold. I press my body against his and lay my head on his shoulder. I feel his arm go around me and then he pulls the blanket tight around me with his other.  
  
"How is it today, Rog?"  
  
I sigh and feel a shiver go through my body.  
  
"Worse than yesterday, but better than usual."  
  
He sighs and I feel him hesitantly kiss my hair. "At least you're not threatening to kill me anymore."  
  
I smile and move my head so I can kiss his neck. "You know I didn't mean it, Marky."  
  
I know he's trying to politely move away from my lips so I stop and again lay my head on his shoulder. He starts to ask me something, but stops.  
  
"What?"  
  
He shakes his head slightly. "No. I don't know if I want to know the answer."  
  
"What?"  
  
He sighs. "Do you regret it?"  
  
"Only when I'm not with you."  
  
He shakes his head again. "Not what I meant, sorry. Just forget it."  
  
I pull away and look up at him. He's blushing and won't meet my gaze.  
  
"What did you mean?"  
  
"Do you regret leaving?"  
  
I nod. "Yeah, I do."  
  
He turns and his eyes find mine. "Why did you, Roger? Why did you do this to me, to us? Why did you leave me?" He whispers this, though his steady tone never falters.  
  
I try to pull him back to me, I wrap my arms around his body and press mine against his.  
  
"I love you Mark. I've missed you. I was so desperate to get out of Scarsdale, I didn't really think. Honestly, I wanted you to come with me. If there was anyone I wanted to run away to the city with, it would have been you."  
  
"You never asked me."  
  
"Would you have gone?"  
  
He shakes his head, ignoring my question altogether. "Were you embarrassed of me? Of what we were?"  
  
I push him off, angrily. "Me? You were the one who refused to let me hold your hand in public because you were afraid of what people thought. You were too fucking scared to tell your parents, you wouldn't even tell Maureen, and you were scared when she found out! The only time you'd let me touch you or acknowledge the fact that we were anything more than friends was when we were alone. And even then, even then Mark, you would find something to be afraid of."  
  
"Fuck you, Roger. You have no idea. . ."  
  
"What you went through? You think I didn't go through the same thing? Your problem was you focused too much on the fact that I was a guy and not enough on what really mattered; that we loved each other. You never grew up did you? You're still the only guest at your own personal pity party. Poor Marky, always poor Marky. Poor Marky is gay and loves his best friend Roger but is too fucking scared to admit it!"  
  
He glares at me, his eyes wet and angry behind his glasses.  
  
"I did love you!"  
  
"What about now? Do you love me now Mark? Cause I don't need you to love me then, I need it now." I move close to him again and grab his arm. "I need to know you love me now, even like this."  
  
"I do."  
  
"Please. . ."  
  
"I love you."  
  
I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him to me. He holds me close for a moment and then pulls away, but he's still near enough to share breath.  
  
"I love you, Roger."  
  
His lips find mine and we kiss gently for a few moments. When he again pulls away he lays his forehead against mine.  
  
"I love you too." I whisper to him.  
  
+++  
  
Notes Continued: I might not update anymore till the weekend, I've got so much homework this week. I'll try to put up the next 4 chapters over the course of the weekend though. Thank you to my reviewers! You're sweet! How's this working for you? Not too weird with the different parts of time is it? Hope you're all enjoying it! 


	12. We Can Still Be Friends

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes: I'm really sorry for the long absence but there is very good news. No more disappearances after this, I had my compy fixed (which was why I was gone) and now my internet works all good again. I typed these two chapters up real quick once I got it back, I'll try to get some more done over the weekend. Once again I'm sorry, but I promise I'll be back to my usual spastic updates in no time.  
  
Chapter 12 -We Can Still Be Friends-  
  
+Mark's POV+  
  
I look up at my house as Roger turns the car off. He looks over at me and smiles.  
  
"I don't think you should come in."  
  
His eyes narrow slightly, but he's still smiling, though with less enthusiasm.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
It'll be impossible to argue with him. I shake my head and start to get out of the car.  
  
"Nevermind. What am I getting?"  
  
"Clothes, anything else you need on a daily basis."  
  
I open the door cautiously. There's no noise coming from anywhere in the house. Is it possible no one's home? I couldn't be that lucky. I go into the kitchen, my mother's favorite room, but it's empty.  
  
"Is anyone here?"  
  
"I don't think so." I tell him. I point toward the stairs. "My room is up there."  
  
He nods and follows me when I start to climb them. I pause outside my door for a moment, then sigh and push it open. He follows me in. I watch him look around, then he sits on my bed. He's looking at his shoes, his mood a little more somber.  
  
"What's wrong?" I ask him as I open my closet. He's quiet for a moment and then he answers.  
  
"Does your family have a lot of money?"  
  
I turn to face him.  
  
"Does it matter?"  
  
He shrugs. "Not really, it's just weird." He looks around my room again, then up at me. "Your rooms so clean."  
  
I smile. "Yeah, it's kind of a rule. You should see my sister's, it's even worse."  
  
He laughs and lies back on my bed.  
  
"Is your sister a bitch?"  
  
"She can be. She doesn't understand what it's like to not be perfect."  
  
He makes a face.  
  
"I hate people like that."  
  
I laugh. "You are a person like that."  
  
He sits up. "Why do you think that?"  
  
I turn away. "Nevermind."  
  
He comes over to me and grabs my arm. "No. Why do you think that?"  
  
I push him off. "What don't you have going for you? You're a great musician, you have so much talent. People love you once you start talking to them, you're handsome, I bet you've had more girlfriends than you even remember, I bet. . ."  
  
He cuts me off, touching my arm gently.  
  
"You think I'm handsome?"  
  
I back up into the wall. The way he's looking at me is different than usual. There's something in his eyes that makes me uncomfortable. He looks almost hopeful.  
  
"I, uh, I guess. . ."  
  
"I really haven't had many girlfriends. . ."  
  
Why is he telling me this?  
  
His face is getting dangerously close to mine.  
  
"Roger. . ."  
  
"What?" His voice is soft, his other hand moving up to touch my face.  
  
"I'm, I'm not gay." I try to gently push him away from me. He relents and backs up, he looks horrified.  
  
"I had, I had hoped when you said you weren't interested in Maureen. . ."  
  
Yes, Maureen. She's pretty, she's very pretty. Straight. You can recognize that. Straight.  
  
"I mean, not that I thought you were. . . I'm not, I just. . ." He starts to move back more, lowering his head.  
  
"I'm sorry." He whispers, his eyes on the ground. He's turning around, heading for my door. I can't let him go now. I remember the pleasant, contented feeling I get when he smiles at me, how he doesn't seem to notice the fact that I hate anyone and anything around me. I stop him before he leaves.  
  
"Wait." I cautiously grab his shoulder and he slowly turns around.  
  
"It's alright, I mean, we can still be friends, right?" My voice is high and embarrassingly needy. He smiles, his demeanor taking on one of relief.  
  
"Yeah. Yeah we can."  
  
"C'mon, it's fine." I pull him back into my room and he goes back to my bed and I go to my closet.  
  
"So what are we doing in the city?" I look back at him when he doesn't answer.  
  
He shrugs. "That's the fun, we don't know."  
  
I roll my eyes and grab a couple of shirts. I open a drawer and take out a pair of jeans. That'll be fine for a day or two or whatever.  
  
I dump my backpack out onto the floor and shove the contents under the bed. I throw the clothes in it and I hear Roger laugh.  
  
"You're just a mess like me. Forced into anal retentiveness."  
  
I grin at him. "I'm better than you."  
  
"Few people aren't."  
  
I laugh and go to the bathroom to get toothpaste. He follows me.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
"Getting toothpaste."  
  
He raises an eyebrow, and grins mockingly. I punch him in the arm.  
  
"Well with that attitude no one's gonna wanna kiss you."  
  
His eyebrows go up in shock for a moment, then he laughs. It's loud and genuine and the best sound I've heard in a long time. His power over me is frightening. I go back to my room and throw the paste and the brush in my bag.  
  
On our way out I leave a note on the table saying I'm staying with a friend and would call later. I know they'll be furious but at the moment I don't particularly care. 


	13. A Lot More To Worry About

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes:  
  
Chapter 13 -A Lot More To Worry About-  
  
+Roger's POV+  
  
My eyes blink open wearily. I turn my head and find a pair of gentle blue eyes smiling down at me. I raise a hand to touch his face, my fingers trailing over his cheek. His lips twitch slightly and he lays his own hand over mine.  
  
"I wasn't embarrassed of us." He tells me softly.  
  
I try to smile. "I know."  
  
He sighs. "It was just, hard, you know?" He bites his lip and looks away. "You know how my parents are, and Cindy. And. . ."  
  
"I know Mark, I know."  
  
"Do you think we could, maybe. . ." He's blushing now. "Try it again?"  
  
I smile. "Yeah, I think we could."  
  
He finally looks back at me, his expression washed with relief and happiness. "Really?"  
  
I laugh softly; it hurts my throat if I let go completely. "Yeah, so kiss me you jerk."  
  
He grins and starts to lean over and I move up to meet him when we hear a door open and then footsteps. That doesn't stop us but the voice does.  
  
"What the. . . oh, sorry." It's what's-his-name, Benny, I think. Mark told me a little about him last night. My lips are an inch away from Mark's and I desperately wish I had the strength or motivation to shove Benny out the door and finally be with Mark alone in the loft. Somehow though, I doubt that'll happen anytime soon. Or at all.  
  
"Morning, Benny." Mark says, annoyance in his voice. At least I'm not the only one irritated at the prospect of a lost moment. He doesn't move though, which I hope means he wants to continue as soon as Benny finds it in his heart to leave us the hell alone. But of course this won't happen, Benny is leaning against the wall about to start an early morning conversation.  
  
"So are you two, like, together now? I always wondered about you, Mark."  
  
I try to hide my smirk from Mark but he pulls away and shoves me gently, smiling as well.  
  
"Fuck off, Benny."  
  
Benny narrows his eyes. "Fine. I'll be back later, I'm spending the day with Alison."  
  
When the door slams shut I look back at Mark. "Who's Alison?"  
  
He shrugs. "I'm not really sure. Some rich girl he's been seeing the past couple weeks."  
  
"Rich girl?"  
  
"Yeah, it doesn't matter." He leans in again, and my lips brush his for a moment before the door opens again.  
  
"What'd you forget, Ben. . . oh."  
  
I hear a giggle and roll my eyes. It's Maureen, and now all I can do is watch Mark's mouth as he talks with her, willing her and the rest of the world to just disappear.  
  
"Roger? Can you hear me? Or are you staring at Marky?" She giggles again and I groan.  
  
"What Maureen?"  
  
"I asked if you were feeling any better. Any chance of me being able to start sleeping here again anytime soon? Josh is being a real dick. Then again," Giggle. "Maybe I don't want to be in such close proximity."  
  
We both blush on that note. I hadn't really even thought about that. I want to look at Mark, maybe catch what he's thinking, but I'm too embarrassed to look him in the eye. What if he thinks I expect that from him? I don't, I could never ask him to risk himself like that. We sit in this awkward avoidance for a few moments until Maureen has enough sense to break the silence by changing the subject.  
  
"I'm going to make a sandwich and then I'm off to work, I'm gonna bring my stuff back tonight then."  
  
"Yeah, um." Mark makes an attempt to clear his throat since his voice came out as a strangled wheeze. "We'll probably just stay out here for awhile anyway."  
  
"Sure." Maureen says absently. Mark pulls away completely and sits up and I do the same.  
  
"There's no food!"  
  
Mark laughs, probably glad she again saved us from having to talk to each other. "What did you expect?"  
  
She stalks back in waving a box of Captain Crunch at us. "Not even any cereal. Who takes the last of the cereal and leaves the box?"  
  
"Probably Benny." I mumble to myself, folding my arms over my chest. Maureen giggles.  
  
"I'd believe it, if he hadn't started on his 'I'm better than everyone' trend. He thinks he's too good to eat cereal for three straight meals. Or just in general."  
  
I fain shock. "But it's the most important food group!" Mark cracks a smile, but his face quickly melts again when he looks back at me.  
  
She opens her purse. "Well I've got a couple dollars, I'll buy a drink or something before work." She heads for the door waving to us over her shoulder. "See you tonight!"  
  
Mark waves to her and I grunt unintelligibly. I have a lot more to worry about than I thought.  
  
"So. . ." Mark starts.  
  
"So. . ."  
  
He sighs. "I think we need to talk a little bit."  
  
+++  
  
Notes: I'm sorry there's not much happening. Next up: the little boys in NYC having a gay old time, hopefully this weekend! 


	14. That Wasn't What Was Important

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes:  
  
Chapter 14 -That Wasn't What Was Important-  
  
+Mark's POV+  
  
I throw my bag down on the bed.  
  
"This has to be the single most disgusting room I've ever been in."  
  
Roger grins at me before flopping backwards on the bed.  
  
"Isn't it great?"  
  
I look around the room, taking in the stained and threadbare carpet, the cracked T.V. screen, what I can see of the moldy and cobwebbed bathroom through the open door and the worn bed that's been used countless times for god-knows-what. I grin back and fall next to him.  
  
"Yeah. It is." I turn my head to meet his gaze and we laugh together.  
  
I notice a guitar case next to the bed.  
  
"I didn't know you brought your guitar."  
  
He looks shocked. "Of course!"  
  
He gets up off the bed and opens it to reveal his acoustic. I pull myself up so I'm resting on my elbows.  
  
"Play something." I tell him and he smiles shyly.  
  
"What do you want to hear?" He asks.  
  
I shrug. "Surprise me."  
  
He starts playing a song that sounds vaguely familiar to me, but I can't quite figure it out. He looks up while he's playing and grins.  
  
"Know it?"  
  
I shake my head. "Not really."  
  
He laughs. "It sounds a little weird cause it's on an acoustic. It's Black Sabbath."  
  
I laugh with him. "You listen to Black Sabbath?"  
  
"Not really, but my guitar teacher did."  
  
"You took lessons?"  
  
He shrugs. "Only a couple. This is basically all he taught me. I did it myself besides."  
  
He stands up still holding the guitar.  
  
"C'mon, let's go out."  
  
I gesture toward the guitar. "You bringing that with?"  
  
"Sure." He smirks. "For some spending money."  
  
"Spending money?" I follow him out the door and onto the street. He turns to look at me.  
  
"Isn't this great? Nothing to worry about, no parents, no school," He nudges me grinning. "Just us, and the city."  
  
I nudge him back and he gestures across the street. We cross and he sits on the ground against the building with his guitar on his lap. I sit beside him. He's lost in thought for a moment then turns to me.  
  
"Take one of your shoes off."  
  
"Why mine? Why not yours?"  
  
"Take it off." He repeats and starts to play. I shrug and pull of my right shoe, positioning it in front of us. He elbows me after a while.  
  
"If I play something you know, will you sing?"  
  
I laugh. "Roger, I can't sing."  
  
"C'mon, earn your keep."  
  
"Honestly Rog, I can't. Really."  
  
"Hey. . ." He trails off and stops playing for a minute.  
  
"Hey what?" I ask him.  
  
He gives me a slight smile. "You called me Rog."  
  
I shrug. "So?"  
  
He shrugs back. "I don't know, I don't think anyone's ever called me that." He pauses and his eyes meet mine. "I like it."  
  
We're silent for a moment and he looks away and picks at his guitar. I watch his fingers on the strings, staring at the thin fingers, the dirt he has under his nails on his right hand. He catches me staring and looks up. I sigh, but I'm smiling.  
  
"Only if you sing with me." I tell him.  
  
His smile could crack any other face. When Roger is happy, he's happy and the world knows it. He starts playing an REO Speedwagon song we heard on the radio on the way here. Not really a favorite band for either of us, but it's one of those songs everyone knows. No one really remembers the first time they heard it or why they suddenly started singing along, but it's commonplace. Some guy drops a few coins into my shoe. Eventually there's a dollar bill. Then two. By the time we decide to leave we can't have made more than five dollars but that wasn't what was important. Roger gave it to some homeless guy on the way back anyway.  
  
We pause outside of a convenience store.  
  
"You hungry?" Roger asks me. I nod and start to follow him in when I catch sight of a phone on the outside of a building.  
  
"You go ahead, I'm gonna call my mom."  
  
"Oh yeah, I forgot." He says. "Need change?"  
  
"No, I got it." I say, pulling a few quarters out of my pocket. Roger nods and goes inside. I see him greet the cashier and head toward the candy. I shake my head, smiling and drop my money in the phone. It rings a couple of times before Cindy finally picks up.  
  
"Hello, Cohen residence."  
  
I roll my eyes. "Cindy, it's Mark. Is mom there?"  
  
"No." I hear her sniff in amusement. "But dad is. Wanna talk to him? Here." Before I can object my father's voice replaces Cindy's.  
  
"Mark? Where the hell are you?"  
  
I close my eyes, wishing I was as detached and carefree as Roger.  
  
"I'm at Maureen's, dad, remember? I'm staying the night, we have a project to work on."  
  
I hear him grumble before he speaks again.  
  
"I don't remember you telling me anything."  
  
"I did, just the other day." I lie.  
  
"Bullshit. What kind of project?"  
  
"History. Big report on, uh, the civil war. It's a huge part of our grade." I squint my closed eyes, terrified he'll know with some kind of astonishing intuition that I'm lying.  
  
I hear Cindy calling him and he yells something undistinguishable back then returns to me. "Fine. Whatever. Tonight only." He says.  
  
"Thanks. Bye." I say hanging up. I lean back against the wall and let out a huge sigh. I open my eyes ready to join Roger inside.  
  
The people I see are hardly Roger. They're older than us mostly, and a lot taller. Some taller than even Roger. There's five of these monsters standing over me. I look over my shoulder frantically, but I can't see Roger inside and the clerk isn't looking.  
  
One of them approaches me. He shoves me hard on the shoulders and I fall backwards.  
  
"Got any money, faggot?"  
  
Instead of trying to get back up I lay there with my hands covering my face as if it would prevent them from seeing me. How often would this happen in grade school, in junior high? Where was the recess lady now? I wonder if reaching for the ten dollars I brought out with me is a good idea or not. I exhale deeply when I hear another voice, a familiar voice.  
  
"Hey, leave him alone."  
  
Another sound accompanies it and it's foreign to me. I lift my head to see Roger standing by the door of the store as expected and glinting in his right hand is a switchblade. He starts walking toward them, brandishing the blade.  
  
"I said, leave him alone."  
  
To my surprise a couple of the guys laughed. I had thought Roger looked pretty threatening right now, but apparently it wasn't so. I chanced another glance back at him. He's been nothing but gentle mannered near me, but somehow I can imagine God trembling at the idea of him angry. I see it in him now. He's furious and I get the sense for the first time that he's really not an awkward teenager like me, he's a man. He's not uncomfortable or clumsy in his body like some that mature at his rate are, but he's fully adjusted. He's accepted it and it shows. I don't know which I'm shrinking away from anymore. Him or them.  
  
He comes to my side and holds out a hand. When I don't take it he looks down at me, his gaze concerned, not the brutal stare he'd been cornering our foes with. I take his hand and he pulls me up.  
  
"We'll gladly leave both you kids alone, just give us your lunch money."  
  
Roger rolls his eyes. "Fucking junkies, get out of here."  
  
They react angrily, two of them rushing towards us. Roger pushes me backwards, the blade out in front of him. One of them swipes angrily at him and Roger blocks the action with the knife, cutting open the other's arm. He hisses in pain and clutches at it. I hear the wail of a police siren off in the distance and pray it's coming in our direction. I lean against the wall and slide down till I'm sitting on the ground and bury my head in my knees. I'd be no help to Roger, and I'm not going to watch them kill him. A few moments later another one of them calls out to the others.  
  
"Cops! Get out of here!" He yells. They push Roger and he stumbles but doesn't fall as they take off down an alley nearby. He wipes his knife on his pants and flicks it closed before coming over to me. There's a cut on his forehead but otherwise he looks fine. He sinks down beside me.  
  
"You ok? They didn't hurt you did they?" He asks, looking at me. I'm gazing at the ground in the opposite direction. I shake my head.  
  
"Good." He tugs at my shirt and I stand up with him and we both go into the store. He takes his guitar back from the clerk and nods at him.  
  
"Thanks for calling the cops, man."  
  
The cashier smiles at him. "No problem, kid. Those junkies been hanging around this area a lot lately. Can't believe they're picking on kids now."  
  
Roger gives him some money and takes the bag he's handed.  
  
"Thanks again." He puts the guitar strap over his shoulder so the instrument hangs down his back and throws an arm around my shoulders. We walk back to our motel in silence.  
  
"You sure you're ok?" He asks me once we're back in the room.  
  
I nod. "I'm tired though."  
  
"Yeah, me too." He looks over at the bed. "It doesn't bother you that there's only. . ."  
  
"No, it's fine." I say, sensing his discomfort. I pull my toothpaste and brush out of my backpack and head into the filthy bathroom. Roger follows me.  
  
"Hey, do you mind if I borrow some of that? I forgot mine."  
  
I roll my eyes. "I bet all you brought was your guitar."  
  
He looks offended. "And clean underwear."  
  
"Clean underwear? I'm impressed."  
  
He grins at me and picks up the paste. "Can I?"  
  
"I'm not going to kiss you."  
  
He winks. "No one asked you to." He squeezes some onto his finger and proceeds to rub it throughout his mouth. I take the paste back from him.  
  
"Who taught you to squeeze toothpaste? You don't squeeze it from the middle Rog, you work your way from the end like. . ."  
  
He spits into the sink. "Lighten up, Marky. Maybe you're anal retentive by choice after all."  
  
I scowl. "I am not."  
  
Roger grins. "Sure, Mark."  
  
I lay beside him on the bed, a respectable distance between us.  
  
"Night, Mark."  
  
I smile with my face in the pillow.  
  
"Night, Rog."  
  
+++  
  
Notes: I like this chapter quite a bit, it's also fairly long. Hope you've enjoyed! Thank you little reviewers/readers, for putting up with me! 


	15. A Strange Way Of Showing It

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes:  
  
Chapter 15 -A Strange Way Of Showing It-  
  
+Roger's POV+  
  
I watch his face, searching for a clue as to what he wants me to say to him. When he makes no movement I sigh and lean backwards, completely at a loss. He looks up at me when I do, his eyes large and sad. I feel his fingertips brushing against my hand and I look down. He entwines our fingers and our eyes meet.  
  
"What do you want, Mark? That's what it comes down to."  
  
He bites his lip, his eyes still burning into mine.  
  
"I do want to, Roger. We're not ready yet, but eventually, I do."  
  
"I'm sick, Mark. You understand that, right? I could kill you."  
  
He smiles sadly. "AIDS will kill me, not you."  
  
I shake my head at him, looking away.  
  
"I don't know if I could, Mark. Honestly. If you. . ."  
  
"It wouldn't be your fault, Rog. It's my decision, really."  
  
I smirk. "And I just happened to be on top of you at the time."  
  
To my surprise he smiles. "Exactly." He says, moving closer. His arm goes around my shoulders and he pulls me close to his body, kissing my cheek, my neck.  
  
I push him off. "Stop it. This is serious, Mark!"  
  
He sighs. "Rog, you know where I stand, but we're not even close to ready for that again yet. Give it some time. At least a few weeks, months even. We've got plenty of time."  
  
He smiles again until he realizes what he's said. He puts a hand over his mouth and looks at me with frightened eyes. For the first time he understands that I'm going to die, that it's real, that I'm sick. I wrap my arms around him, he lays his head on my shoulder.  
  
"But that's just it, Mark." I say quietly. "We don't."  
  
+++  
  
The sound of a door opening wakes me up. I open my eyes to see Maureen carrying a small suitcase.  
  
"Hey." She says.  
  
I put a finger to my lips and gesture at Mark, who's sleeping with his head on my chest, his arms around my waist.  
  
"Oh." She says softly. "Sorry."  
  
She goes into her and Mark's room for a moment then comes back out, her hair now flowing freely around her face. She sits on the end of the couch bed, facing me, but her eyes not really meeting mine.  
  
"He's missed you." She tells me in a whisper.  
  
I nod. "I know, he's told me."  
  
She looks up and there's anger in her eyes.  
  
"You hurt him, you now, when you left. Why did you do that to him?" She hisses.  
  
I roll my eyes. "Oh please, Maureen. As soon as I left Mark went back to being your lapdog. You know you missed having him live to make you happy."  
  
"Fuck you Roger." Her voice rises dangerously and I look down at Mark, but he's still asleep. The last thing he needs is to wake up and see us arguing about him again. Just like old times.  
  
"You think you're the only one who cares about him? That loves him?" Her voice is low again.  
  
"You have a strange way of showing it." I tell her angrily at the same volume.  
  
"Yours is any better?"  
  
We glare in silence for a minute. Maureen and I used to get along, but eventually I took up too much of Mark's time and less frequent were the times when he'd drop everything to go tend to her. Right before I'd left we'd fought bitterly in front of Mark. It had really upset him at the time and thinking about it now, I didn't want a reprise.  
  
"Forget it, Maureen. Just shut up, ok?" I hated giving up, letting her win.  
  
"Fine." She gets up and glares down at me. "I hope he finally gives up when you inevitably hurt him again."  
  
She goes into her room and despite my quiet protest slams the door. Mark stirs next to me and I know he's awake. Stupid bitch.  
  
"What was that?" He asks, his voice muffled and tired.  
  
"Nothing, don't worry about it." I reach down and gently pull his glasses off of his face. "Go back to sleep, Marky."  
  
He moves closer and I know he's closed his eyes again. In another few moments his breathing returns to it's deep, steady rhythm. I wish I could sleep as well, but there's far too much on my mind. It may be easy for Mark to shrug it off for the moment and worry about it later, but it's not going to go away in time. We're stuck with this. And neither of us is really any good at facing things.  
  
I look down at the sleeping Mark. We'll have to deal with it eventually, but maybe he's right. Maybe not tonight after all. I settle back into the cushions and close my eyes, praying for sleep.  
  
+++  
  
Notes: Bit of a shorty here. Sorry about that. Thank you my reviewers, I promise there will be slash payoff. . . eventually. 


	16. You Know Nothing About The World

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes: Thank you so much reviewers/readers. Particularly Leigh and Mari. Love you all though!!!  
  
Chapter 16 -You Know Nothing About The World-  
  
+Mark's POV+  
  
Roger is shaking me. I groan and push him away but he persists.  
  
"What are you, drunk again?" He asks, laughing. "C'mon, get up! We've got to call ourselves in and see the city!"  
  
I open my eyes to see his grinning face looming over me.  
  
"Alright, fine." I grumble. I've never really been pleasant in the morning. My back has never hurt so much in my life, I think I would have been more comfortable on the floor. When I glance down at it, however, I realize a backache is a lot less to worry about than whatever that stain near the wall is.  
  
Roger's still wearing the same clothes as yesterday and his hair is unwashed, sticking out in all directions from the gel in it yesterday. He looks tired, but his usual excess of energy hasn't been dampened by his fatigue. He smiles again and I shake my head as I reach for my backpack. He still looks perfect.  
  
I mentally slap myself.  
  
"Hey, don't bother changing. C'mon, we've got to go!"  
  
"But. . ." He's already pulling me out the door.  
  
"I already checked us out, let's go! Wake up already!"  
  
I follow him, exhausted. "They actually have a check out at this place?"  
  
He laughs. "Are you kidding? This is a high quality establishment!"  
  
"Where are we going?" I ask him. He pauses, looks back at me and shrugs.  
  
"I don't know. Let's just drive around for awhile."  
  
I groan. "If REO Speedwagon comes on the radio again, you better change the station."  
  
"Promise." Another tug on my arm. "Let's go!"  
  
+++  
  
We called the school from the pay phone outside of the convenience store. I was terrified, convinced it would never work, but the receptionist didn't even question my pathetic attempt at changing my voice.  
  
We parked the car a few blocks back and now Roger is standing in front of a store I suppose, the windows are full of mannequins wearing the most hideous clothes I've ever seen.  
  
"What the fuck is that? Roger, I'm not going in there."  
  
"I think it's a thrift store." He says. "Oh c'mon, let's go inside!"  
  
"No."  
  
He doesn't bother to answer, just grabs my sleeve and pulls me along with him.  
  
The air inside is musty, I cough when it reaches my lungs. To our right is a large section devoted to formal wear and a special rack for prom dresses, near that is womens, across the room is mens, there's a small rack in the middle for children and in the back are appliances, furniture, books, vinyl and various other oddities. Roger runs over to the formal wear. Reluctantly, I follow him. When I reach his side a garish yellow taffeta dress is thrust at my chest. I back away, swiping at it angrily.  
  
"What the hell, Roger!"  
  
"Look at this stuff, Mark!"  
  
I look, it doesn't have quite the same effect on me.  
  
"Why are you picking out dresses, Roger? You don't wear dresses. . ." I lower my voice significantly. "Do you?"  
  
He laughs and put the hanger around his neck and twirls with the hideous thing against his body.  
  
"Not typically, but for this beauty I might have to make an exception."  
  
"Dear God. . ." I shake my head and try desperately to pretend I don't know him.  
  
"Excuse me boys, what are doing?" An old woman wearing a blue vest that designates her as 'Doris' asks us.  
  
I open my mouth to answer, but Roger beats me to it.  
  
"Prom shopping." He says casually, not turning toward her.  
  
She raises an eyebrow. "Young man, our tuxedos and suits are on the next rack."  
  
"I know."  
  
I wince and then close my eyes, ready for the conservative old lady bubble to burst.  
  
"Suit yourself, young man." She says after a pause. She shoots me a look after I reopen my eyes and there isn't any of the menace I had expected, but humour. She doesn't care whether or not Roger is a cross-dresser, but she thinks it's funny. I smile feebly at her and when she goes back to the cash register I go over to Roger.  
  
"Can we leave now?" I hiss at him, grabbing his arm.  
  
"What do you think?" He asks, hanging the dress back up.  
  
"I think we should go!"  
  
"No, about prom."  
  
"What? What about prom?"  
  
"Go with me. To prom."  
  
I'm about to reply, but stop before the first sound leaves my mouth. I know he didn't just. . .  
  
I push him away, as he's laid his hand on my arm. "Dammit Roger, I said I'm not gay!"  
  
He looks at the ground, I know I've hurt him, but I really don't care. He sighs, it's a small, defeated sound.  
  
"I know, but. . ." He looks up at me again and I've never seen eyes so clear as his are at this moment. They're green, green like the worn particles of glass I found on the beach last year during a forgettable family trip. Green glass. Transparent, honest. Am I not gay because I'm really not, or because I'm scared of what that means?  
  
"I mean, I know that, but. . ." He doesn't know how to finish. I sigh. I do feel guilty for how I handled this. I go to him and cautiously lay a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Rog, I like you, a lot. But I just, well I'm not sure about anything else. Give me some time for that. But either way, I want to know you. I want to be your friend."  
  
He smiles sadly, slightly reassured, and tries to regain his composure.  
  
"Besides, I can't go to prom, I'm only a sophomore. I don't really think they'd let us go together anyway."  
  
He looks offended. "Underclassmen can go if they're invited. But why not? How can they stop us?"  
  
I roll my eyes. "Just a little thing called 'discrimination'."  
  
He narrows his eyes. "Like, as in, 'your being there together would make everyone else uncomfortable so it's just more convenient for us if you don't go'?"  
  
I nod and he clenches a fist. "I didn't know that! How are they allowed to do that?"  
  
I can sense his temper rising. Quickly I try to avert it.  
  
"Besides, do you want everyone in school to know you're gay?"  
  
It wasn't the smartest thing I could have said, now his anger is fixed upon me and I have to admit, it's just as intimidating a feeling as I imagined.  
  
"Why? Is it something to be ashamed of? Should I be embarrassed because of the way I feel about you? Should I have to hide that?"  
  
"You honestly think you're ready for that? Do you have any idea what the world thinks of people like you?"  
  
He's not angry anymore, but hurt.  
  
"People like me?"  
  
"I didn't mean it like that, I'm sorry."  
  
"Is that how you feel, Mark? About me? Do you think like them?"  
  
"No!"  
  
"Then why does it matter?"  
  
"How can it not?"  
  
He shakes his head at me. "You know nothing about the world."  
  
I glare at him scornfully. "And you do?"  
  
"Obviously more than you!"  
  
"Excuse me? Boys?"  
  
We turn and look at Doris again.  
  
"What?" We yell in unison.  
  
"I don't mind you boys being here, or even arguing, but you're scaring the young ladies away from the prom dresses." She gestures at three girls our age standing awkwardly a few feet away.  
  
"Take it over to mens for awhile, ok?" She smiles at us and gives us each a pat on the shoulder, then walks back to the register again. Roger starts walking and I follow him.  
  
"Why do you care so much anyway?" He asks me. "You're 'not sure'." He says mockingly. "No one's going to be persecuting you."  
  
I lower my eyes.  
  
His voice is softer when he speaks again.  
  
"What?"  
  
I hadn't really wanted to tell him, but I think now it might be a comfort. It's not like I could tell Maureen. We always talk about her family.  
  
"My father thinks I'm gay. He calls me a faggot."  
  
I look back up at him. His anger has lessened, considerably.  
  
"I didn't know, Mark."  
  
"No one does, unless they've heard it."  
  
"Does your mom know?"  
  
I nod. "Yeah. She wouldn't really care either way I don't think, but she won't stand up to him."  
  
"Wow. Um, look, I'm sorry Mark, ok? For anything I've said."  
  
I shrug. "I think he thinks it's funny, that he's joking with me."  
  
"It's not funny, Mark. Don't take that." I feel his hand on my arm and I look down at it. "Is he why you are the way you are?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"You're so angry. You hate the world, you hate everyone around you. Is that why?"  
  
"I don't hate everyone around me."  
  
"They annoy you."  
  
I shrug. "Maybe it is. He can be a real asshole. But like I said, I don't think he means it to be like that. He's just disappointed I like to play with cameras instead of footballs. That I don't play catch with him in the backyard and don't hide Playboy under my mattress."  
  
Roger tries to hide a smile. "You don't?"  
  
"Why should I?"  
  
He shakes his head and laughs. "You really need to loosen up, Mark. Don't you, you know. . ."  
  
I feel myself blushing and I turn away.  
  
"Nevermind, forget it." He says quickly. Why should I care what Roger thinks? No matter what he's still going to like me. I could probably tell him most anything. When I look back into his eyes I correct that. I could tell him anything.  
  
"Yes. I do." I say quietly.  
  
He smiles. "Alright, so you're normal." He punches me in the arm, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make me rub it afterwards. I nudge him.  
  
"Do you, you know. . ."  
  
He laughs out loud. "Honestly, Marky?" He puts on a very innocent face. "Never, and I'm offended you asked."  
  
I laugh with him, however feeble. I wish I had a real laugh like his, loud and genuine. Mine always sounds nervous and forced. God, what does he see in me?  
  
"Look, about prom. Why don't you just come over to my house? I'll. . . I'll show you some stuff I've filmed."  
  
"That'd be great!" He grins and quickly pulls me into a hug. I struggle to get away from him and he lets me go after a minute, laughing again.  
  
"I'm sorry, but, you're just great."  
  
I smile back, less forced than usual, almost real.  
  
"Yeah, I know."  
  
+++  
  
Notes Continued: Alright, first of all, shout out to Doris. She's the friendly old lady at my local thrift store. Also, I've never really discussed their ages till now, but Mark is a sophomore (like he says) and Roger is a junior. Oh yes, and this all takes place approximately 2 months before the end of the year. I based it off of how my high school runs things. Prom is usually a three weeks to a month before the end of the year. So they have about a month and like the good little OOC boy he is, Roger is planning ahead. Ah, life is good. Hope you all enjoyed! New update coming soon!! 


	17. Shamelessly Indulging

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes: Um. . . Rated: R!!!!  
  
Chapter 17 - Shamelessly Indulging-  
  
+Roger's POV+  
  
It's cold when I wake up and I realize quickly it's because Mark isn't there. He's not far, however, he's on the other side of the small room, watching old film with a very sad face. He doesn't know I'm awake yet, so I pretend awhile longer, watching him.  
  
It's really old film, from high school. The camera is on Maureen who is dancing along with music coming from out of the picture. The camera pans over then, and I see myself, with my guitar, providing the music. Mark zooms in on me and I smile at him and wink. I don't remember this, not at all.  
  
Mark looks over at me, catching me with my eyes open, barely pretending. His eyes are sad.  
  
"What happened to your guitar, Roger?" He asks softly.  
  
"It's gone. I left it in an alley. . . and I don't know. It wasn't there when I got back."  
  
He nods and turns back to the film.  
  
"Look at yourself, Roger. Look at what you were, and what you are now."  
  
I sit up and lean against the cushions. "Am I not good enough for you?"  
  
He looks horrified. "I didn't mean that."  
  
"What did you mean, Mark?"  
  
He comes back across the room and sits beside me on the bed. His arm goes around my shoulders and I lean against his body, my head on his shoulder.  
  
"You're perfect, Roger. If I ever say anything else I don't mean it."  
  
"How do I know you mean it now?" I ask him quietly.  
  
"You'll just have to trust me." He says, laying his head against mine.  
  
I've missed this so much, this casual contact between us. So commonplace before, so easy now. It's all returning, even the feeling I've always remembered, from the first time I saw him. It had been backstage, during the musical my junior year. I had been late getting to my place backstage to wait for my entrance because I didn't have my mic. Terrified, it was opening night and I was fucking up already, I frantically tried to get anyone backstage to listen to me and help. I had to be onstage in about 30 seconds.  
  
A small, blond guy was sitting next to a large prop piece, talking with another techie through his headset. I ran frantically over to him.  
  
"Please, help me. I don't have a mic, I need to be. . ."  
  
I didn't even finish before he was up and gone. I saw him grab a body mic from an ensemble member near the dressing rooms and then he ran back over to me.  
  
"I'll figure out the mic problem, just go onstage." He told me, quickly situating the mic on my collar and putting the mic pack on the back of my pants. He pushed me toward the stage and right before I went on I turned and smiled at him, my heart still pounding.  
  
"Thanks!" I called out in a half whisper. He waved me away, talking into his headset.  
  
"Chris, it's Mark. Turn on mic G when, uh, the next lead gets on. Yeah I know that's not his mic, there's a problem. Just do it, he's going on now." He snapped at me and pointed to the stage. For a second he half smiled and that's what I remember, that smile that may not have even been there. I thought about him the rest of the night and many times afterwards till I finally saw him again at the talent show a week or so after the final performance. Something about him had stuck in my mind, had always stuck in my mind.  
  
I pick my head up and he turns to look at me and I kiss him, softly, but not being quite as cautious as we have been these past couple days. It doesn't faze him at all, he deepens it, his tongue seeking entrance to my mouth, which I grant, until we're locked to each other, shamelessly indulging in the other's taste. This can't happen yet, I'm telling myself, not yet. Mark pulls my body closer and I'm moving closer, laying on top of him, pinning him down. No, not yet. One of his hands on my shoulder, the other on the back of my neck. One of my arms around him, the other moving down his body, his chest, his waist, his thigh. And his face, his beautiful face that I'm spreading my kisses over, that's flushed and red, my own that surely matches. His body feels so familiar, yet it's different. He's grown, filled out. He's still small, still thin, not a boy, a man now. That's real stubble I feel on his chin when I touch his face again, the Mark I knew never had a need to shave. I feel a strength in him that wasn't there before, a power. He's never been so appealing and at the same time so. . ."  
  
"Mark, no." Every part of my body resists me as I move away, sitting up and looking away. I can't look at him.  
  
"Roger, what?"  
  
"No, not yet, Mark. We said. . ."  
  
"Now, Roger. When else is better?"  
  
"But. . ."  
  
He lays his hands on my shoulders from behind and I feel his lips on my neck. I moan softly, letting my head roll to the side.  
  
"I love you, Mark." I say, my breath caught in my throat, it's a strangled whisper.  
  
He's kissing my jaw now and I turn my head so our lips again meet. When one of his hands starts to move down my chest I pull away again.  
  
"No!"  
  
"Why? What's really wrong, Roger?" He smiles gently. "I've never known you to turn down sex in the past."  
  
I wrap my arms around my body, move farther away from him.  
  
"How can I possibly be attractive to you, Mark? Look at me, really look! I probably weigh less than you!"  
  
He's shaking his head at me.  
  
"It doesn't matter, Roger. I've never loved you because of how you look."  
  
He comes over to me, takes my hands. I watch him turn them over. Gently, he pushes my sleeves up and kisses my wrists. He sees what he didn't notice before, the little fading scratches and scars that cover my wrists. How insane I went after I discovered April and at the same time, my fate. I was constantly pricking myself, would stare at my blood as it welled up, imagining the deadly disease within it. It would fascinate me and I'd watch it till it clotted and dried and then I'd make another cut.  
  
He kisses some of the old tracks on my arms, then lifts his head. I've been watching him soundlessly, and his eyes meet mine. He shakes his head again.  
  
"Why can't you just let me love you, Rog? Is it that bad?"  
  
His eyes are open, honest. The only eyes I've ever loved. The only eyes I ever will, certainly. If I don't trust Mark, if I don't let him take care of me and appreciate him and be with him and love him I might lose him and then I'd be lost as well. I start the slow, awkward lean toward him. He does the same. Our lips meet in a tender kiss. He leans back on the bed and pulls me on top of him. It's not the same passion as it was only a few minutes earlier, it's much to gentle and kind for that. He pulls his lips away for a moment.  
  
"Not here, Rog." He makes a gesture toward his bedroom and we get up together and go in, our lips meeting again as soon as the door closes behind us. I pull the shirt off of his body, laying my hands on his back and pulling him close. We kiss gently, I feel him tugging on my own shirt and I step away only enough for him to get it off. I start to move back towards him but his lays a hand on my chest, forcing me to stay back. I watch his eyes move over my upper body and mine land on the ground, embarrassed. Then he's right up next to me again, and he kisses my chest, my chin, my lips.  
  
"You're perfect." He whispers.  
  
Moments later Mark leads me to his bed, pulling me down on top of him. He stuffs something in my hand while my lips are still on his and I tear open the condom without breaking our kiss. He lays back and I position myself, laying one hand on his stomach, again appreciating the new, subtle power beneath his skin.  
  
I'd forgotten it could be this way, what it was like to share this with him.  
  
I lay in his arms, my head on his chest. He kisses my hair and I hold him tighter.  
  
"I love you, Rog." He whispers to me.  
  
I smile to myself and close my eyes.  
  
+++  
  
Notes Continued: Happy now that we have a little action? Lol. Well I assure you it won't be long until mini-Mark and mini-Roger get their freak on as well. Oooh secrets I shouldn't tell! Thanks reviewers/readers! 


	18. I Swear That Will Be Enough

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes: No action here yet, but soon. I PROMISE! Stay with me. Thank you readers/reviewers, I love you all!  
  
Chapter 18 - I Swear That Will Be Enough -  
  
+Mark's POV+ -2 weeks later-  
  
I lay next to Roger on the roof of his car, staring at the sky. His radio is on, playing quietly in the background. Between us is a half- finished can of Pepsi.  
  
"What do you want to be when you grow up, Marky?" He asks me, reaching for the can again. I really should take it when he's done, I've only drank out of it once and he's practically finishing it now.  
  
I shrug, knowing he can't tell. "Does it matter? I've going to get shoved into some stupid college I don't want to go to anyway." He sets the can down and I pick it up and drink from it, sarcastically thanking him silently for the few drops he left behind.  
  
"So don't go." He says. There's a silence in which I put the can back down between us. "What do you want to do, though? If you could be anything, do anything, what would it be?"  
  
"A filmmaker. I want to make films." I say softly. I don't recall ever telling anyone that before, but this is Roger. In just a few short weeks I've found that I can tell him anything, we can do just about anything together, and all of it seems perfectly normal. He's what I've been needing my whole life.  
  
He turns his head to look at me and I turn mine as well.  
  
"Really? Shouldn't you carry that camera around more often, then?" He asks. "You might miss something important if you don't."  
  
"Something inspiring."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
We're silent again and we both look away.  
  
"What about you?" I ask, already knowing the answer.  
  
"Musician." He replies, stating the obvious. "I don't really care if I'm ever popular, I just want to know I made an impression on someone. You know?"  
  
I smile to myself. He already has.  
  
"Yeah," I whisper. "I know."  
  
+++  
  
I take his suggestion to heart and bring my camera everywhere. It was foreign at first, but only three days into this new lens-ridden life it's comfortable. I film everything except my family and school, but there's not really anything inspiring there anyway. Except maybe Roger. He's my main subject, and as much as Maureen would love to be, she'll never be what he is. All he has to do is look at the camera, no, at me, and smile. Just that slight, half-smile that lets me know he knows I exist. For as long as I live I swear that will be enough.  
  
"Will you help me with my lines this weekend, Marky? I need to rehearse for the play." Maureen asks me.  
  
I wince. "I told Roger we'd. . ."  
  
She pouts at me. "I never see you anymore, Marky. You're always with Roger."  
  
I shrug. "So?"  
  
"Don't you love me anymore?" She crosses her arms, her lips sticking out in a way I used to find adorable, then annoying and now just routine. It's a face I've seen a lot lately.  
  
"Sure I do, Maureen, but. . ."  
  
"You love Roger more?"  
  
I feel myself blushing and look away. "Shut up, Maureen. Why do you say things like that? You're so weird."  
  
She giggles. "Oh is Marky in love with Rogey?" She asks in a playful voice.  
  
"Fuck off." I say angrily and turn away.  
  
"Wait! Marky, I'm sorry, ok? Will you please help me?"  
  
I roll my eyes. "Alright, I'll help you Saturday morning, ok? But then I'm going with Roger."  
  
"Morning?" She squeaks, looking absolutely pitiful.  
  
I groan. "Not early morning, like eleven or something. You can't possibly need more than an hour or two, do you?"  
  
"Well. . ."  
  
"Well that's all you're getting."  
  
I turn to leave again.  
  
"I'll call you." She says uncertainly to my back.  
  
I almost feel guilty.  
  
+++  
  
After I help Maureen, a process that lasted far longer than the two hours I had hoped for, I call Roger to come pick me up despite much uncertainty from my parents. My dad asks if he's my boyfriend and my mom doesn't like the idea of a teenager driving me anywhere.  
  
"At least make him come to the door, I like to meet your little friends." My mother says.  
  
I roll my eyes. "If you call him a 'little friend' while he's here I'm never talking to any of you again."  
  
"Big loss." Cindy whispers to my father. I don't even bother to glare at her, especially since I hear a soft chuckle from him. Instead I turn my camera over in my hands, waiting for Roger.  
  
The doorbell rings a few minutes later and I run toward it, but Cindy beats me there. She fixes Roger with her best face-cracking grin and gestures inside the house.  
  
"Come in! We love to meet Mark's little friends!" She says happily. This time I do glare, feeling at the same time my face reddening severely.  
  
Roger looks at her uncertainly, smiling shyly. He comes in and I can't meet his eyes so I continue to glare at my sister who winks at me when she closes the door.  
  
"What's your name again, dear?" My mom asks.  
  
"Roger Davis." He tells her, holding out a hand, which she takes.  
  
"My, you're. . .tall." She finishes, looking up at him, smiling.  
  
He lets out a nervous laugh. "Thanks? I think."  
  
My dad steps over and stares down at Roger, though not much, Roger is really tall.  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
"A club in the next town." Roger tells him. "There's this band playing that. . ."  
  
"A club? Like a bar?"  
  
Roger shakes his head. "No, they don't serve alcohol."  
  
I look at him in bewilderment, I got drunk off my ass there just a few weeks ago. Roger winks at me when my dad looks over at my mom.  
  
"I don't like him, he's cocky." He says, as if Roger isn't standing before him.  
  
"Oh hush, he's a dear." My mother says, smiling at Roger who returns it. She starts to push us toward the door and I know it's because she's sensing trouble from my father. I consider for a moment that it's nice of her to help me. We're almost out and I'm thinking we even managed to avoid a few homo jokes.  
  
"Mind you're not doing any of that queer stuff in public, I don't want everyone to know my son's a faggot." My dad calls out when we're in the doorway. I cringe and Roger looks like he wants to say something, but both my mother and I shake our heads at him and he relents. My mother smiles at us one more time.  
  
"Have fun, boys. Be home before curfew, Mark." She says.  
  
I nod at her, for once grateful for her presence and leave with Roger. We sit in his car in silence for a while before he finally speaks up.  
  
"Your mom's nice." He says.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"But your dad. . ."  
  
"I know. I told you."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
He looks over at me uncertainly. "So, what happened earlier? I thought we were gonna hang out during the day too."  
  
I sigh. "I know. I promised Maureen I'd help her with her lines for the play and soon it was 6:00."  
  
He laughs. "That's alright, I caught up with my vinyl. I just didn't know. . ."  
  
"I'll call you next time."  
  
"Don't worry about it."  
  
"Really, I'm sorry." I feel terrible, because despite Roger's light tone, I can hear his disappointment.  
  
"I said. . ."  
  
"You're my best friend." I tell him, immediately wondering why. I blush and look away.  
  
He grins and nudges me in the arm. "You're mine."  
  
Why do I bother feeling embarrassed around him? He never gives me reason to, and I always misjudge him. Even when he kids with me, it's nothing that really bothers me in the end.  
  
"Hey, think you can get through the night sober?" He asks mockingly.  
  
I groan. "Don't ruin my fun."  
  
He laughs. "Hey, you'll meet April tonight."  
  
"Who's April?" I ask.  
  
"My Maureen." He says.  
  
+++  
  
Notes Continued: That's right, we meet April next! Should be a good time for all. 


	19. Since You're Here

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Chapter 19 -Since You're Here-  
  
+Roger's POV+  
  
I feel a hand on my arm and slowly I open my eyes. Mark smiles gently and hands me a bowl of cereal. I take it and sit up. He climbs back into his bed beside me. He kisses my temple and wraps an arm around my waist. I start to eat, praying my body won't reject food today, more for his sake than mine.  
  
"How are you today?" He asks me.  
  
I wince when I swallow some cereal, but nod at Mark.  
  
"Better." I say quietly. I smile at him. "Since you're here." His lips meet mine for a soft but brief kiss. I take some more cereal.  
  
"I thought maybe, we could. . . go for a walk today." He says hesitantly.  
  
I nod, still chewing. "Sure."  
  
"It'll get you away from Maureen at least." He says.  
  
I smile. "And alone with you."  
  
I know he's blushing, I don't have to look over, but I do anyway. Sure enough his cheeks are tinged with pink and he has that small, nervous smile I see a lot of. Usually when I tease him or say things like that. I kiss his cheek and then his lips.  
  
"I love you."  
  
He leans against my body and lays his head on my shoulder.  
  
"Love you too." He whispers.  
  
+++  
  
The cereal didn't stay down as much as I'd hoped. About ten minutes later I was hunched over the toilet with Mark beside me, gently rubbing my back and my shoulders.  
  
My throat now burning I sit next to Mark on the couch, enveloped in his arms. I feel incredibly sick and despite the glass of water he poured for me, I can't rid my mouth of the taste of vomit. I set my glass down and bury my head in his chest. I've started to cry and my whole body is shaking. I've never wanted a hit more in my life.  
  
"God Mark, it hurts so bad sometimes." I tell him, my voice choked and heavy from my tears.  
  
I know he's nervous, he always gets that way if I'm upset or if I cry. He swallows and pulls me closer.  
  
"I know, Rog. But it'll be ok. You're much better off now. Don't you think?"  
  
I shake my head. "No! I need it, Mark. I need it now!"  
  
"No, you don't, Roger."  
  
I push him away. "I need it! I'm going to get it!" I start to stand up and he watches me speechless. I take a couple of unsteady steps toward the door and then feel myself falling. He comes to my side and I roll onto my back, holding my left arm that I fell on top of.  
  
I look up at him, furious. "I hate you, you know. What are you good for? You won't help me when I need help! Jesus Mark, I hurt all over! Every part of me hurts!"  
  
"You don't mean that, Roger. I know you don't."  
  
"What if I do? Fuck off, Mark." I push him away from me and try to get up. He leaves me alone for a few minutes, struggling to get up and falling, finally curling my legs up to my chest and laying my head in my hands. I feel Mark's arms around me and I lean against him.  
  
"I'm sorry." I tell him softly. "I don't mean it. I love you. I really. . . God Mark, I'm sorry."  
  
"It's alright, Rog." He kisses my hair. "You'll be alright."  
  
"Since you're here." I whisper, and I know he smiles.  
  
+++  
  
Notes: REALLY short chapter, sorry about that. Sometimes they get almost too sweet for me, but I love sensitive Roger. Almost as much as asshole macho Roger. ;) Thanks for reading, I'll update more Tuesday or Wednesday. 


	20. Really Appealing

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes: Maybe next chapter. ;)  
  
Chapter 20 -Really Appealing-  
  
+Mark's POV+  
  
I follow Roger into the club, again coughing slightly on the smoky air. He stops at the doorway, looks around and then gestures toward a corner table. Sitting there leaning back in her chair with one spike-heeled boot on the table is a girl I assume is April.  
  
Besides the knee high black boots she's wearing cut off jean shorts so short they cover no part of her thighs. Underneath of a black leather jacket I can see a top that looks suspiciously like a corset. In one hand is a cigarette, a drink in front of her on the table, next to a couple empty glasses.  
  
She flips her long, blonde hair and waves lazily at Roger. She stares at me blatantly, not even attempting to hide her immediate dislike of what she sees.  
  
"Who the hell are you?" She asks, blowing smoke in my direction.  
  
"This is Mark, April." Roger tells her, pushing me toward the table. He hardly seems to notice her disgust and my discomfort.  
  
"It's a pleasure, I'm sure." She says haughtily. I try to smile, but when she narrows her eyes I take a step back instead, into Roger, who again pushes me forward.  
  
"What's wrong with you?" He whispers as he guides me to a seat. "Either one of you want anything to drink?"  
  
I shake my head, not wanting to give him a reason to leave.  
  
"Jack and Coke. Actually, fuck the Coke. Unless it's not in a drink that is."  
  
Roger shakes his head. "I'm not buying you alcohol, April."  
  
"Well fuck you then."  
  
"You sure, Mark?"  
  
"I'll just go with you." I say quickly, standing up before he can object. He raises his eyebrows, but shrugs at April.  
  
"We'll be back." He tells her.  
  
"Can't wait." She says sarcastically.  
  
"Isn't she great?" He asks, once we're standing near the bar.  
  
"She hates me." I tell him, feeling a chill when I glance back in her direction.  
  
Roger laughs. "No, that's just how she is."  
  
I very much doubt it, but I don't say anything more to Roger as he hands me what I assume is probably Coke. I sip it but I was wrong, it's root beer.  
  
"Smart ass."  
  
He grins. "I am not sleeping on a chair for your drunken sake again."  
  
"You could always stay in the bed with me." I say suggestively.  
  
"Don't tease me." He says, but winks.  
  
When April sees us laughing she rolls her eyes and stands up.  
  
"C'mon, Roger, I want to dance." She grabs his hands and leads him toward the dance floor in front of the stage. He gives me a helpless look as he disappears among the other people there. I sigh and sit at the table alone, drinking my root beer. How dare he drag me here, to a club I hate going to, then ditch me for his bitchy girlfriend that he must have 'forgotten' to tell me about.  
  
I consider that for a minute. He had referred to April as his 'Maureen', which I had taken to mean his best girl friend, but I didn't doubt for a minute that April wanted him as more than that. At first I saw the lines as gay or straight, but now I suppose there's a middle ground as well. I'm very much surprised when I realize I'm resentful of the idea of them together. At the same moment I look over to the dance floor and catch a glimpse of them there. She has her arms around his neck, her hips pressed into his and with his hands on her waist he kisses her. I look away, feeling my heart sink, though I don't know why. That glass of beer on the next table is starting to look really appealing. I begin to reach for it, but someone starts to approach that table and I move away and watch the band instead. I don't know what Roger likes about them. Whatever it is, I don't see it. I don't even bother wasting film on them, or anything else here.  
  
An hour or so later I'm bored sitting here. I look around for something to do, thoroughly irritated with Roger for bringing me here, or for being with April, or both I don't know. For once I wish Maureen were here. Not only would I have someone to pretend to be interested in listening to, she'd know what I should do. What can I possibly tell him? 'I saw you kiss April and even though I've turned you down twice I'm insanely jealous?' That'll go over well, especially with April who reminds me of some sort of wild animal that wandered into civilization.  
  
I see Roger coming back towards the table, pulling a reluctant April behind him.  
  
"Hey," He says, sitting down. "You been here this whole time?"  
  
"You noticed." I say quietly, avoiding his eyes that I know are searching to meet mine.  
  
"Hey, you want to dance?" He asks.  
  
April looks mortified. "I am not. . ."  
  
"With me?"  
  
I flinch but try to look annoyed. "Roger. . ."  
  
"C'mon." He grabs my arm and pulls me onto the dance floor.  
  
"I don't want to. . ."  
  
"I know." He says, not stopping until we're against the wall, far away from April.  
  
"What's wrong?" He asks me, shouting over the music. I shrink away until I realize he's not angry, but concerned.  
  
"I just. . ." I sigh. "You know I don't really like coming here and. . ." I wait for him to ask me why I did, but he doesn't, he waits for me to continue.  
  
"If you're just going to leave me sitting there. . ."  
  
"I'm sorry, Mark." And he really looks like he is, too. He bites his lip nervously and tries to smile. "There's no saying 'no' to April."  
  
"Yeah, April." I roll my eyes and look away. "Your girlfriend."  
  
He laughs. "She's not my girlfriend. She's my. . ." He hits me in the arm. "Hey, you jealous?"  
  
I push him back. "Hardly. But we've made it fairly obvious that she thinks I'm pathetic and I'm terrified of her, and you're completely oblivious." He starts to respond but I cut him off. "Besides, you were practically fucking her on the dance floor."  
  
He looks surprised. "Mark, you are jealous. I honestly do not understand you."  
  
"I'm not jealous, I'm disgusted."  
  
"What? Why. . ."  
  
"She's a whore."  
  
"Don't call her a. . ."  
  
"I'm going home." I start walking toward the doors. I hear Roger yelling behind me, but I ignore him. It's not really cold outside, but it's too cool to be walking with just my t-shirt. I don't have a coat, only my camera. I switch it on and turn it on me.  
  
"Close on Mark, jealous of his gay best friend's girlfriend. . . I think." I sigh into the camera. "What happened to my life to make it so confusing? How the hell did I get here?" I turn it off when I hear footsteps behind me and keep walking.  
  
"Mark! Mark wait, please! At least let me drive you, it's far and it's too cold!"  
  
I stop and let him catch up. He stops beside me and turns me to face him.  
  
"You'll let me drive you?" He asks hesitantly. I nod, trying not to look at him. He gently tugs on my arm and I follow him to his car. He doesn't say anything the whole way home and as soon as he stops in front of my house I hurry out of the car.  
  
"Wait, Mark!" He yells when I'm halfway there. "I want to talk to you."  
  
Knowing I'm probably making a mistake, I stop and wait for him. He takes my hand and pulls me nearer.  
  
"I'm sorry, ok?" He says. "April's just my friend." He smiles at me. "You're still my man."  
  
I doubt I've ever blushed more in my life.  
  
"Roger?"  
  
He makes a noise to show he's heard me and moves much closer.  
  
"I think I might be considering. . ."  
  
He lays my hand on his shoulder and places his own on my waist. He lowers his face slowly, his eyes never leaving mine, the whole time asking my permission.  
  
"Can I kiss you?" He asks me under his breath when his face is inches from mine.  
  
I feel logical again for a moment.  
  
"Not here, not now. They might. . ."  
  
He lets me go, disappointed, but not angry.  
  
"Ok." He runs a hand through his hair, standing there awkwardly. "I'll, uh, see you Monday, I guess." He gives me a sad smile and hurries to his car. I watch him go and as he's driving away I turn my camera on and film the last few seconds he's visible until he turns a corner and is gone.  
  
"Whatever the hell I'm doing, I hope I figure it out soon."  
  
+++  
  
Notes Continued: It's leading up to something, I promise. Really. Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing! I love you all! 


	21. Did I Ever Doubt

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes: Apparently FF.net had some problems, so I apologize for the space between updates even though it wasn't my fault. Here are my newest two chapters. I think we'll all be happy with the amount of er. . . action. . . in them. (  
  
Chapter 21 -Did I Ever Doubt-  
  
+Roger's POV+ -a couple days later-  
  
I feel someone shaking me gently. Slowly I open my eyes and look up at Mark. He grins widely and I feebly return it before groaning and rolling over.  
  
"Oh come on, Rog! I found something! Something you're really going to like!"  
  
When he reaches for me again I push him away. "Unless it's a powerful drug you approve of, I don't really want to hear about it."  
  
I know I've upset him, but I feel like shit and am in no mood to move. He persists, urging me in a gentle voice to get out of bed. Why does he bother with me? And why did I have to mention drugs?  
  
I turn over in the bed and look up at him sleepily.  
  
"Fine. What is it, Mark? What is so fucking important it couldn't wait till. . ."  
  
I see it against the wall, my battered guitar case. Although in significantly worse shape than the last time I saw it, it's there. I can only assume that my guitar is inside, I can only pray.  
  
Slowly, with Mark's help, I sit up in bed and he brings the case over to me. I open it and, sure enough, inside lays my old Fender. I pick it up gently, pushing the case away, and hold it close to my body. It's missing the strings and there're a lot of areas of paint that have been chipped off and a pretty sizeable nick toward the bottom, but it's my guitar. I hold it tightly and seized with guilt I look up at Mark. He lays his hand on my shoulder and kisses my forehead.  
  
"Where did you find it?" I ask him, softly.  
  
"A few blocks from here, near some garbage cans. I bought it off of some guy for $10." He smiles at me. "I thought you might want it back."  
  
I run my fingers along the neck, not really feeling the urge to play, but more to remember what it felt like.  
  
"If you want, I have some more money. We could buy strings." He says cautiously.  
  
I look up at him and smile. I take his hand in mine and bring it to my lips and kiss the back.  
  
"I love you."  
  
He moves closer and wraps his arms around me. "I know." He whispers, leaving a soft trail of kisses along my neck. I pull away just enough to lay the guitar back in its case and move it to the floor. Mark slides into my arms and I kiss him gently, pushing him backwards so that I lay beside him. I prop myself up on one elbow and look down at him.  
  
"What did I ever do to deserve you?"  
  
He blushes. "Say things like that."  
  
I grin. "Is that how I won you over? Flattery?"  
  
I kiss him again, moving my body so it's on top of his. My hands go down to his waist, settle on his hips, then I bring them back up so they slide under his shirt and I pull it upwards. He lifts his body up and I pull it off. I let my lips fall onto his chest, and my hands run down his sides. I lift my body off of his some and reach for the opening on his pants. I position myself lower and take off his pants and shorts. He's already half hard, which I take to be a good sign. I wrap my hand around him and begin a slow, steady rhythm. A minute later I brush my lips against the tip, and allow my tongue to come into play. He gasps beneath me and I let my other hand rest on his thigh. I realize quickly that he's gotten no better at holding out during this than the last time years ago. Another minute or so later I hear him bite back a cry and I pull away and he releases himself in my hand. I give him a minute to recover then hold out my other hand and pull him up. He kisses my cheek and I wrap my arm around him.  
  
"I think we need a shower." I tell him.  
  
He smiles when he stands up and extends a hand for me. I take it and follow him, wrapping my arms around him from behind. Did I ever doubt we were perfect when together?  
  
+++  
  
Notes Continued: Pretty soon it's taking a dramatic turn for the depressing, obviously RENT has to happen eventually, and as much as I don't want him to, Roger has to fuck Mimi for a while. (Not that I dislike Mimi at all, she's one of my favorite characters after Mark and Roger. But this is slash we're talking about and we all know there's no one better for Roger than Marky.) Although I'm considering writing a sequel that will continue this part of the story when this one is finished. 


	22. I've Never Wanted Anything More

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes: Pretty sizeable jump in time here. From wherever I left off to the last day of school. Approximately 6 weeks later. Oh and Roger's car has that kind of crazy front seat where it's one long bench thingy and there's no space in the middle. It's vital to their flourishing relationship to know that.  
  
Oh and also the bit about the dislocated shoulder is based on my own experience. I dislocated an arm playing soccer and my coach (a registered nurse) popped it back in for me. Obviously it wasn't serious or she couldn't have done it. I think it was only partially dislocated, so assume that's what happened here. May I add it hurt like fucking hell? Cause it did.  
  
Chapter 22 -I've Never Wanted Anything More-  
  
+Mark's POV+ -6 weeks later-  
  
I glance over at Roger nervously. Even though I agreed to cut the last day of school with him, for the past few weeks I've hardly spoken to him. He makes me nervous and I'll get flustered and forget how to talk around him, mumbling unintelligibly. He looks over at me.  
  
"What's wrong with you? We never hang out anymore, and when we do you just sit there and stare. Did I do something?"  
  
Other than exist? No, Roger, no.  
  
I shrug at him. "Nothing, really." I say softly.  
  
"Nothing?" I cringe when he yells. "Bullshit, Mark! What did I do to make you uncomfortable? I don't care if you're mad at me, I just want to know why!"  
  
I hate hearing him yell. I continue to try and shrink away until he notices. Immediately his voice is quieter, his tone apologetic. If he hadn't been driving he might have reached out for me.  
  
"God Mark, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. . ."  
  
"Forget it."  
  
"No, really. Honestly, Mark, I didn't. . ."  
  
I stop listening to him, concentrating on the sounds outside the car.  
  
The car stops. I look up and then at him, we're in front of my house.  
  
"I figured you might have just wanted to go home." He says sadly.  
  
I shrug. My dad's at work, my mom spending the day with her sister, my own sister at the mall, she graduated last week. No one's home to know I'm skipping. I might as well.  
  
I look back over at Roger, who's watching me warily.  
  
"Why don't you come in for awhile? I ask him hesitantly.  
  
"Really? Are you. . ."  
  
"Yeah, it's fine."  
  
He follows me out of the car and to the door.  
  
"Want something to drink?" I ask him when we're inside.  
  
"Water, sure. Thanks." He says as I hand him a glass. I take one of my own and start up the stairs toward my room. He follows me and sits beside me on my bed when we're inside my room. We sit in silence for a minute, drinking, until he breaks the silence.  
  
"So what is it, Mark? What's bothering. . ."  
  
"I think I like you." I blurt out, then immediately cover my mouth with my hand.  
  
He looks over at me in shock.  
  
"What?"  
  
I hadn't planned on this, hadn't planned on saying anything. I'm fucked now.  
  
I don't look at him, I can't. "I think that I, uh, like you."  
  
"Mark, really?" He asks hesitantly, softly. Still looking away, I nod slightly. It's true, I think.  
  
"Can you look at me? Look at me when you say things like that?"  
  
Slowly I start to bring my head back around. My eyes meet his and I know it has to be true. Terrified as I am of what this means, when he lays his hand over mine I know I've never wanted anything more in my life. He brings his face down to mine, and this time I don't object. His lips meet mine and I sigh against them. His other hand goes to my shoulder and I wrap my arms around his body and pull him closer. The feel of his lips pressing onto mine is making me dizzy, my skin is burning under his hands. There are footsteps on the stairs.  
  
I push Roger away from me as my door opens. Closing my eyes, I pray it's my mother, but know it's not. How could I have forgotten that on Fridays my father comes home early from work?  
  
"Why the hell are you home?" I hear. "And who's car is that out. . ."  
  
I know he's seen Roger, who I hope is looking as innocent as possible.  
  
"Why are you here?" I'm about to reply, but Roger cuts me off.  
  
"Well," He starts out, his voice calm, reserved. "It was a short day so I gave Mark a ride home and now we're just mak. . ." He falters for a minute when I glare at him before he made the fatal mistake of saying 'making out'. "Hanging out."  
  
Except for his little slip at the end, his tone and confidence might have convinced another parent, but my father doesn't buy it for minute. He starts toward us, grabbing my arm and pulling me off of the bed. I cry out in pain, I feel something pop in my shoulder.  
  
"What are you doing to him?" He shouts at Roger.  
  
"Jesus, don't hurt him!" Roger yells back, standing up.  
  
"Get out you fucking faggot!"  
  
Roger narrows his eyes, I see him crack his knuckles and take a step forward.  
  
"Roger, no!" I say. I try to move out of my father's grip, but he squeezes tighter and I gasp when I feel the extra pressure. Roger looks unsure of what to do. I can see he wants to help me, but doesn't want to do anything that I won't like or that will get me in more trouble. My father lets go of my arm roughly, pushing me so I stumble into Roger. He steadies me, leaving his hands protectively on my shoulders.  
  
"You want to go with him? Go, don't bother coming back."  
  
I stare at my father in shock.  
  
"Go! Go on!"  
  
I shrink back against Roger when he yells. Immediately I regret it because it upsets him.  
  
"Don't yell at him." Roger says to my father, his voice low, dangerous. I honestly don't know which of them is stronger, but at that moment I'm thoroughly convinced it's Roger. My father raises his eyebrows, at his tone or audacity I don't know, but returns to his angry stance soon enough.  
  
"Get out of my house!" I tremble at the volume, but I've made up my mind. I reach for Roger's hand and pull him with me when I leave the room. We hurry down the stairs together and to his car.  
  
He keeps looking over at me, nervous, hesitant. I keep my eyes fixed out the window, staring at the ground moving under the car.  
  
I feel a wetness gathering in my eyes and try to blink it away, determined not to cry. Not over my father, he's not worth it, and not in front of Roger. It's too late though, he sees the hand I'm trying to hide that's rubbing at my eyes.  
  
"Mark? Mark, it's ok. I mean, you can. . ."  
  
"No I can't." I tell him, trying to keep my voice normal. "I don't cry."  
  
He takes one hand off the wheel and lays it on my arm.  
  
"Mark, really. It's alright."  
  
I know it's not and he knows it's not but when I look over at him he smiles at me and I take my seatbelt off and move across the long bench seat. He puts his arm around my shoulders and I close my eyes and lay my head against his shoulder. Not much later he stops the car and I open my eyes.  
  
"Where. . ."  
  
"My house." He tells me. He opens his door and starts to get out. He holds out his hands for me and I take one, but pull my left arm away as soon as I move it. He stares at me in shock.  
  
"What's wrong?" Then he remembers and his eyebrows shoot upwards. "Oh! Your arm!" Gently he helps me out of the car, and then he takes my other hand and leads me inside.  
  
"Roger? That you?" I hear a pleasant female voice coming from the kitchen.  
  
"Yeah." He calls back. He tugs on my hand and I follow him into the kitchen.  
  
The woman I see standing in the kitchen is pretty, she looks a lot like Roger, but appears tired, weary. She smiles at me and it's Roger's smile, without the laughter or the life behind it.  
  
"Well I don't think I've met you before." She says, looking at me.  
  
"This is my, uh," He looks over at me and I shake my head at him. "My friend, Mark."  
  
"It's nice that you're here, Mark." She turns around for a moment, then back to us, holding a plate out in front of her.  
  
"Have a cookie, boys."  
  
We each take one; I let go of Roger's hand so I don't have to move my left arm. Roger notices and remembers.  
  
"Hey, mom? Mark hurt his arm. Do you think you could. . ."  
  
But she's already at my side. I look over at it for the first time. It hangs at kind of an odd angle. She lays her hands on it and gently feels up and down along my arm, then on my shoulder, which burns with pain when she touches it. I look over at Roger.  
  
"It's alright, she's a nurse." He tells me, letting his hand rest on my shoulder. While his mother's concentrating on my arm I feel his lips on the back of my neck for a few brief moments and I smile slightly.  
  
"It's just dislocated, hun. I can fix it for you, it'll hurt for a second though."  
  
I nod slowly and reach for Roger's hand. He takes mine and squeezes it tightly and I look up at him, and he smiles at me reassuringly.  
  
"She's done it for me before, don't worry."  
  
I feel her grip on my arm and I close my eyes. When she asks if I'm ready I nod and then gasp and cry out. She moves my arm for me and it's still sore, but no longer throbs in pain when I move it.  
  
"Better?" She asks.  
  
I nod. "Thanks."  
  
She smiles and hands Roger the plate of cookies.  
  
"Why don't you both stay in Roger's room for a while? Want me to make you something to drink?"  
  
"I'll just get some water." Says Roger.  
  
"I'm going to make some tea, you sure you don't want any?"  
  
Roger makes a face. "That's alright, mom. Unless Mark wants some."  
  
I shrug. "Sure." I've never really drank tea before, but she seems like the kind of mother that would get offended if you don't accept their offers of food.  
  
"Alright. Boys, just go upstairs. I'll bring it up, yes your water too, Roger."  
  
Roger holds out the plate to me and I take another cookie and follow him upstairs.  
  
We both sit on his bed, same as we did before and Roger sets the plate between us. He looks over at me hesitantly.  
  
"Mark?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Are we. . .?" He trails off.  
  
"Together?"  
  
He nods. I shrug.  
  
"I don't know. I think, I think I might want us to be." I say nervously. I feel his hand over mine and slowly we lean together till out lips meet again. I touch his face, letting my fingers run over his strong jaw, through his hair, I let my hand rest on the back of his neck and we pull apart, breathless. He moves the plate and slides closer so our bodies touch. He kisses my neck, my collarbone, letting his lips rest where neck and shoulder meet. I lay my hand on his arm, feeling the muscle there. At this moment there is nothing to convince me that he's not perfect and that this shouldn't last forever, until I hear his mom in the hallway.  
  
I don't push him this time, just move away. His mom comes in holding a mug for me and a glass for Roger.  
  
"Here you go boys. Mark, are you going to be here a while?"  
  
I look over at Roger and he nods at me.  
  
"Yeah, he's spending the night."  
  
"Alright, that's fine. What do you want for dinner?"  
  
Roger shrugs. "Whatever's around, don't make anything big, mom."  
  
"But we have company, Roger." She smiles. "I'll order in Chinese, ok?"  
  
Roger cringes. "Mom that'll be really expen. . ."  
  
"Oh it'll be fine. "She checks her watch. "I'll order it in a few hours, ok?"  
  
"Sure, mom." Roger sighs.  
  
I feel guilty for making his mom think she needs to have a real dinner, but I don't say anything because in all honesty, I love Chinese food.  
  
She smiles at us again, then closes the door on her way out.  
  
"She's so nice."  
  
Roger grins. "I know. And if it makes you feel any better, she doesn't like April either."  
  
I smile. "Something we have in common."  
  
"She's pretty great, almost cool, you know? For a mom."  
  
"Does she know you're. . ."  
  
He shrugs. "I don't know. I don't think she understands, because I like girls too." He looks at me to see how I take that. I don't react so he continues. "She wouldn't care, she just doesn't really know. I've never had a reason to tell her."  
  
He's silent for a minute and he looks away. When he looks at me again, his expression has changed and is now one of concern.  
  
"Do you think your dad meant what he said?"  
  
I move back beside Roger and lean against his shoulder. He puts his arm around me.  
  
"I don't know. I'll give him time to settle down, and wait for my mom to come home. She'll at least listen to me. She normally won't stand up to him, but I don't think she'll let him kick me out."  
  
He kisses my temple and rests his head against mine.  
  
"What happened with your father?" I ask him. "Why doesn't he live here?"  
  
I feel him stiffen beside me.  
  
"Not today, Mark. I'll tell you, but not today." He rubs his hand up and down my sore arm. "You've got enough to deal with."  
  
I move my head and kiss his chin gently. He smiles at me, then presses his lips over mine. I settle back into his arms and he holds me close. I forget I've ever had any other thoughts besides ones of being with him.  
  
+++  
  
Notes Continued: Dear God that was a long chapter! More to come soon, though it might not be till Monday. Enjoy and thank you for reading/reviewing, you guys make my day! 


	23. Nothing Was Sacred

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes: I meant to post this sooner, but I got myself a little sick over the weekend, so it's a wee bit delayed. I apologize. Hope you enjoy anyway and thank you all for reviewing and/or reading!  
  
Chapter 23 -Nothing Was Sacred-  
  
+Roger's POV+  
  
I open my eyes, blinking against the sun, and look down at Mark. He lies on his side, his head resting on my shoulder, my arm underneath and around him. Gently I kiss his forehead, then slowly move away from him and slip out from underneath the blankets.  
  
Standing next to the bed I look back over at him. He shifted only slightly, but his face remains serene, pleasant. He's beautiful when he sleeps. Or anytime, I suppose. I feel a smile playing along my lips and I let it come, feeling comforted as it spreads over my face. Mark has always made me smile, even when he doesn't realize he's doing it. I look over at Maureen's bed, but it's empty. Her being the only one of us who actually has a job, as a waitress, she must be at work. Or else spent the night with her boyfriend again. There's a new one this week.  
  
I walk over to my guitar case and open it. True to his word Mark had bought me strings for my guitar yesterday, I'm in the mood to try them out. I lift the guitar out of the case when something catches my eye.  
  
There's what looks like the tip of a zip lock bag sticking out of the pocket. I set the guitar on the floor and hesitantly reach for it, my hand shaking. Please let it not be. . .  
  
But it is. There isn't a lot, but enough for a good hit. This was not in here when I lost it, I know it wasn't. But. . .  
  
I reach further in the pocket and sure enough, my needle is in there, all the stuff I left is still there, intact. Shit.  
  
I want desperately to say I'm not tempted. I want to believe that I want to flush this stuff, but if I said those things, I'd be lying to myself. I pull the baggie all the way out and grasp it with both hands, holding it up, willing it to be meaningless to me. Frustrated, disappointed I throw it in the case and fold my arms across my chest. This isn't supposed to happen! Mark is supposed to be enough for me. He got me clean, even though we both went through hell for it. To do this is to betray him. Betray him far worse than I've ever done before, I think. I really can't.  
  
I look back at the little bag. Why did I start this? If I had just stopped to think, if I hadn't went to April in tears because I missed Mark, because my band had just broken up, because I was lonely. If only I had thought about what that one little hit would do to me. That I would spend the next few years of my life devoted only to heroin and heroin alone. Nothing was sacred, nothing was important, only my drug. My life. I glare at the bag. My life inside a bag.  
  
I wish I could blame this all on April. Say it's her fault for thinking this shit would help. Hate her for killing herself and leaving me to deal with all of this on my own, but I should have known better, and honestly, I think I did. What kind of friend was April, really? She never had Mark's devotion; he'd do anything for me, and me for him. Maureen was a better friend than her. Maureen used to make me laugh, before she started to hate me for taking Mark from her. But April. . .  
  
I remember when I first met April, in freshman year. She was the same age as me, but she always seemed somehow older. Maybe just more experienced. I had thought she was beautiful, even then. Her attitude intrigued me, the way she didn't care about anyone, or anything. Detached, aloof. I had never met a person like her. Her lifestyle had at first fascinated me. She drank all the time, smoked pot, did lines and I'd heard rumours that she slept around. I'd never even heard of half of the things she did. It didn't seem so glamourous when she'd show up to class so drunk she couldn't walk straight, or when I'd see her nonchalantly rubbing the stray powder off of her nose before school, or in the hallways. When she was suspended for two weeks with some other people for possession of marijuana I almost lost interest. But then she talked to me.  
  
She said she'd heard from some people that I played guitar and that she knew of a band from another school that was looking for a new lead guitarist. But, she had said with a casual smirk on her face, she just didn't know if I was 'cool enough' to do it. She offered to bring me out with her friends after school, but knowing what her and her friends did I turned her down, saying I wasn't interested in drugs. Surprising me beyond belief she had given me a somewhat sinister half smile and said it was cool, I didn't have to do anything I didn't want to.  
  
I used to tease Mark for worshipping Maureen, but in all honesty, I was the same way with April. She came on to me a couple times, but I usually just brushed her off, I felt that I could avoid her rubbing off on me if we were friends, but if we got any closer I'd probably be more tempted.  
  
I stare at the bag. Looks like she won out after all. There was a time I loved this more than anything. More than Mark. As much as I thought that time had passed, now that I'm staring the problem in the face I'm starting to doubt myself. I will myself to look back over at Mark.  
  
The sight of his face, his peaceful, trusting face, helps. I think of what he's done for me, how much he's already forgiven and know I can't get away with much more. He'll only take me back so many times, and I only have so much pride.  
  
I remember my ultimate low points. All I had then was my pride, my dignity. I shake my head now, knowing none of that was real. If I had had either I wouldn't have needed heroin. I wouldn't need heroin now.  
  
I pick up the bag cautiously and stuff it back in the pocket, all the way down. I wish I could bring myself to get rid of it. I look back at my guitar. Suddenly I'm no longer in the mood to play. I lay it back in the case, and close it.  
  
I stand up and leave the room. There doesn't appear to be anyone else around so I walk over to the table and hop up onto it. I don't really like being around Mark's roommates, no matter how welcoming Collins is. Benny's an asshole and Maureen's being a real bitch about me being here. I smirk slightly. If Collins knew what I was contemplating only a couple minutes before his mood wouldn't be too different from theirs. I frown. And Mark's wouldn't be either.  
  
Is this what it's done to me? I'm not even the same person I was before. I remember vaguely my old self, what I stood for, what I enjoyed, what got me through the day. Who I am now barely compares. I stand for nothing; I'd probably give up everything for one more hit. What do I enjoy? It's not my vinyl or spending the day in the city with Mark anymore. It's not even my guitar. It's remembering that blissful feeling I got the first couple times I shot up. That was all that got me through the day.  
  
I'm so much more bitter, unforgiving. Of myself, of everything. I'm blaming heroin, I'm blaming April, I should be blaming myself and my inability to ask for help. Why don't I just tell Mark I found the heroin? Tell him I need him to help me get rid of it. He'd do it, he'd be proud of me for asking, for telling him. The idea seems appealing. I close my eyes against the image of the needle sliding into a scarred vein. That warm, soothing feeling as it drifts through my veins. Knowing it would help, trusting it. I shake my head, finally letting it fall into my hands. Don't think about it, don't ever think about it. Tell Mark. Tell Mark now. Tell him you need help.  
  
"Roger? You ok?" I hear his voice, I see him standing in his doorway, his hair disheveled, wearing only a pair of pajama pants. He smiles sleepily.  
  
Tell him.  
  
I return the smile, sliding off the table.  
  
"No, I'm fine, Mark."  
  
+++  
  
Notes Continued: Oh, bad Roger! Kind of a rambling chapter, sorry. Hope it gave you all a little more insight to the Roger/April relationship. Thanks for reading! 


	24. I Just Want You To Be Normal

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes: Assume Mark spent the weekend at Roger's house. It's now sometime during Sunday, probably late afternoon. Ok? Super! Read on!  
  
Chapter 24 -I Just Want You To Be Normal-  
  
+Mark's POV+  
  
Roger stops the car in front of my house. He looks over at me hesitantly.  
  
"Do you want me to go in with you?"  
  
I smirk. "Somehow, I don't think that's going to help."  
  
He sighs. "I just thought. . ."  
  
"I know. It's alright, I just think I should talk to them alone."  
  
"Are you going to tell them?"  
  
I look over at him in amazement. "What? Tell them? You're not serious!"  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"My dad just threw me out for assuming I'm gay. I'm not about to admit it to him. I'd like somewhere to sleep at night."  
  
Roger smiles gently. "You can come sleep with me."  
  
I roll my eyes. "What, are you going to adopt me? I can't just move in with you."  
  
"So you're not going to say anything?"  
  
"No, and I don't you should either."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because, Roger," I say, exasperated. "I can't deal with that! I don't want the stigma of being 'gay'."  
  
"Stigma? What does that mean?"  
  
I open the door. "Nevermind, just, nevermind." I slam the door behind me.  
  
"I'll see you tomorrow." He calls out the open window. I turn to watch him drive away, wishing he had stayed, just in case this doesn't go well.  
  
I knock on the door, feeling strange about having to knock at my own house, but I don't have a key. Cindy opens it.  
  
"Oh, look who's home." She lowers her voice. "Queer."  
  
"Fuck off, Cindy, let me in."  
  
She leans back against the door, leaving a small path for me to get by her. "Daddy's in the living room with mom. There're talking about you."  
  
"Great." I sigh. Pushing past Cindy I walk through the front room and toward the hallway leading to the living room. Cindy hurries past me. I try to grab her arm to stop her, but she's too quick.  
  
"Daddy! Mark's home! His little boyfriend dropped him off!" She giggles when I try to punch her and pushes me into the living room.  
  
My parents are sitting together on a couch, when my dad sees me he stands up. I close my eyes and shrink away, expecting him to yell or hit me. What he does both surprises and scares me.  
  
He wraps his arms around my body and pulls me into a brief and awkward hug. I open my eyes, unbelieving, and look up at him when he pulls away.  
  
"Are you ok?" He asks me.  
  
I swallow and nod, still wary of the way he's acting. I see Cindy in the doorway and can tell she's just as shocked as I am. Obviously she was expecting the same kind of embarrassing lecture as I was.  
  
"Did he hurt you? What did he do to you?"  
  
I pull away from my father. "Nothing! Roger's not like that, he's just my friend."  
  
My father narrows his eyes at me. "Don't lie to protect him, Mark."  
  
"Honestly," I lie. "We're not like that. You imagined the whole thing."  
  
He sighs. "Mark, it's ok. We want to help you."  
  
I sit down on an armchair. "You just don't understand."  
  
"What don't I understand? I'm trying to save my only son from being corrupted and I get 'I don't understand' from you?"  
  
"He's my friend, my only friend. Why would you assume that. . ."  
  
"I knew it about that kid, I knew it the first time I saw him. Cocky little bastard, I knew he would be bad for you." He turns to glare at my mother. "And you let him go with him! You encouraged it!" He gestures over at me "You want him to be that way or what? What's he supposed to think?"  
  
"I thought it was nice for Mark to have someone other than Maureen as a friend. A boy, someone he could relate to."  
  
"Or skip school to make out with." I feel my face react in shock and I bite my lip and look away. My father lays a hand on my arm.  
  
"I'm sorry for the things I've said, Mark. I just want you to be normal. I thought that if you saw what it would be like that way you'd come to your senses. I want you to be happy."  
  
I look up into his eyes and I can see that he honestly believes what he's saying, that he's sincere. I've never hated him more in my life. I stand up angrily.  
  
"I'm not gay! And what if I was? You say you want me to be happy, but you want me to do what would make you happy, not me! Do you really care at all?"  
  
He pushes me then. "Shut up!" I fall backwards and hit my sore arm on the table. I cry out in pain and grab at it. I hear my mother gasp and even Cindy's slight intake of breath. I glare up at him.  
  
He kneels beside me and holds out a hand. "I didn't mean to. . ."  
  
I brush it away. "Yeah, you never mean to. Why can't you just go back to ignoring me? I think I liked that better."  
  
There's actually hurt in his face. Anger mostly, but hurt as well. My mother stands up and comes to my side.  
  
"I think you should leave him alone for now." She says to him, her voice calm, even.  
  
He looks over at her, and I expect him to lash out, but instead he nods and stands up. He looks back at me one more time and I continue to glare. He gestures to Cindy and she reluctantly leaves with him.  
  
My mother helps me sit up and I lean against the chair.  
  
"Your father means well." She smiles sadly. "Unfortunately you're thinking on two different levels."  
  
"I hate him."  
  
She shakes her head. "No you don't. You just don't understand him, and he doesn't understand you."  
  
"I'm not gay, why can't he understand that?"  
  
She shrugs. "Well, if that's what you say." She lowers her voice. "You don't have to lie to me, Mark."  
  
I stare at her in disbelief. I'm tempted to tell her that I've spent the weekend sitting on Roger's bed with him, kissing and touching and talking and that it's been the best couple days in my life since we've been together, but I hold back. Out of fear maybe, though fear of what I don't know.  
  
"I'm not. Can you make him believe that?"  
  
She shakes her head sadly. "He'll believe what he wants to believe. I won't be able to change it."  
  
"Will he get mad, if I hang out with Roger?" I ask her hesitantly.  
  
"Not mad, I don't think. I think he's past that. He's concerned now. He loves you, Mark. No matter what you think."  
  
"But can I. . ."  
  
"Yes. You can." She sighs. "Just don't advertise it."  
  
I look in my mother's eyes when she gives me a small, sad smile. I've always felt pretty comfortable with her, it's not quite the relationship Roger has with his mom, but it's something. I think somehow she knows, no matter what I tell her and I've never loved her more than I do now. She touches the side of my face and kisses my forehead.  
  
"It'll be ok. In the end, it'll all be ok."  
  
+++  
  
Notes Continued: More coming soon, though I'm not sure how soon. I have a pretty busy week, but I'll try to keep my updates regular. Hope you've all enjoyed so far, thank you for reading/reviewing! 


	25. That’s More Than You’d Ever Do For Me

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes: Sorry again about the lack of updates, but it's tech week for the school musical. I've been getting home around 11:00-11:30 every night and tonight was our first real performance. I'll try to be more frequent after this. Hope you all enjoy!!  
  
Chapter 25 -That's More Than You'd Ever Do For Me-  
  
+Roger's POV+ -one week later-  
  
If only my life were improving, yet it's not. I push Mark further away each day and he doesn't understand why. Every day I think about my secret stash and pray for the courage to do something with it. Toss it, use it. . . just fucking get rid of it. Heroin has me in its fucking palm.  
  
I sit next to my guitar case on the floor, holding my knees up to my body. Mark reaches out for me but I pull away. He drops his arm in frustration and stands up.  
  
"What is wrong with you, Roger?"  
  
I want to blame him, anything. I want something to give me a reason for what I'm contemplating.  
  
"Roger? Rog?" Mark's voice is small, almost inaudible. I'm scaring him. I stare at one place on the floor, ignoring him. He sits in front of me and grabs hold of my shoulders, shaking me gently.  
  
"Are you on something?"  
  
Not yet. I look over at the case, in my mind begging for Mark to leave, I need it now. I feel my veins burning, the pain already dying at the thought of having it. I look back up at Mark. His eyes are wide in fear and concern. I don't know how long ago he asked the question, but I shake my head at him now. He tries to take my hands but I pull them away angrily.  
  
"Leave me alone, Mark!" I bellow, pushing him away roughly.  
  
Someone knocks on the door a moment or so later. Collins opens the door and comes inside. His face is stern, but he's not really angry, not yet.  
  
"Is there a problem?" He looks at Mark questioningly. Mark swallows and shakes his head.  
  
"He's fine, Collins. We're just. . ."  
  
"Are you ok?" He asks him, before turning to glare at me.  
  
"I'm fine. It's alright."  
  
Maureen pushes the door open the rest of the way.  
  
"What happened? I heard Roger yelling." She says, her eyes burning into mine. She goes over to Mark and puts her hands protectively on his shoulders.  
  
"What did you do to him?" She asks, her voice low and angry.  
  
I stand up slowly, my hands shaking as I think about how close it is, yet unattainable at the moment. I start to walk out of the room.  
  
"Roger, no! Where are you going?" I hear Mark cry out.  
  
I shrug. It doesn't matter. They don't follow me out of the room. I approach the door leading to the hallway and spot not only Mark's but Collins's coats on the floor. Cautiously, but quickly in case they decide to follow, I kneel on the floor and quickly shift through their pockets. I find only two singles in Mark's coat, but in Collins's I find eleven dollars. Thirteen altogether, my new lucky number. It's mine now. I run down the stairs, going a lot faster than I'm sure is healthy for me. Halfway down I realize my needle, my stuff, is still in my guitar case. Praying The Man has an extra, and he's feeling generous I continue on.  
  
He stands on his usual corner, like some sort of gleaming beacon of godly light. My relief. Why did I ever give this up? If only for that natural rush when I think about it, it's worth it. He sees me and casually waves me over. I think I've missed that gesture.  
  
"What'll be, cutiepie? Do we have money this time?" I see that typical horrible glaze come over his eyes.  
  
I dig in my pocket and triumphantly hold up my thirteen dollars.  
  
"Well, that'll buy you something. But I but you don't have anything to put it in."  
  
I take step backwards when he winks at me. Not that, no. . .  
  
"Oh relax, boy. I just want you to blow something up for me."  
  
I watch his eyes hesitantly, then step back towards him and he gestures toward the alley. I stare at his pocket hungrily. In the alley he pushes down on my shoulders as he leans against the wall. I'm not really happy to do this or anything, but if it'll get me a little bit of life I'm more than willing.  
  
I've never really liked the feeling of it in my mouth. It's awkward, uncomfortable and just tastes generally strange. He pushes my head too far and I gag. I hate that. I hate feeling his hand on my head, in my hair. I hate the painful tightening of his fingers and the sharp intake of breath above me. I hate most of all that he drops the bag on the ground and I can feel his semen on the side of my face. I feel on the ground beside me. He left everything I needed. I gather it to my chest hurriedly and start to stand up. I take a bad step and slip and fall forward. Terrified, shaking, I look down but it's fine. I'm fine.  
  
I hear him before I see him. I hear his footsteps, I see him kneel beside me. He reaches in front of me and picks up the bag. I see his hand shaking in anger. I've never known him to be this angry before. I find myself cringing, moving away, something I've seen him do so many times if I or anyone else is angry. I swallow and look up at him, any pride or joy gone from me completely.  
  
"What did you see?" I ask him softly, frightened. I would never want him to know. I don't want him to see what I do for heroin, what it does to me. His eyes, his pale, blue eyes that are always so warm, that I've always found my comfort in, are hard and cold. Ice. His glare chills me more than the air out here. Judging me, hating me.  
  
"Everything." He says quietly, in a voice I've never heard. It's far more dangerous than if it were loud. I understand yelling, I understand a loud, angry voice and what it signifies. But someone who's quiet when they're angry, who's soft, low voice gives me more fear than guilt or grief, I don't. And this from Mark. I've never been afraid of him before, I've never had a reason to be.  
  
"What you do for this, Roger." He says, holding the bag up. "I want to believe that it owns you, that it makes you do these things." He shakes his head. "But you're willing to do it. You are willing to steal, lie, degrade yourself for this." He throws it on the ground. "That's more than you'd ever do for me."  
  
"No! No it's not. I gave it up for you, Mark!" I cry, reaching for him. He roughly pushes me away.  
  
"No you didn't!" His voice rises briefly, but he composes himself and continues in the same soft tone. "What are you doing now, Roger? What is this in front of you? You stole form me, from Collins, you lied to me."  
  
He sighs and I see his anger crack briefly. Our eyes connect and I know his pain, I know how much I've hurt him. He looks away a moment later.  
  
"I want you gone." I look up at him in shock. "Let me be, Roger. I can't have you do this to me anymore. Please just leave me now. Just let me be."  
  
"But. . ."  
  
"You can only hurt me so many times and this time I think it's a lot more permanent. Please be gone tomorrow."  
  
+++  
  
Notes Continued: I'm sorry it's a short, downer chapter. I'm going to try to post the new one tomorrow or Sunday, depending on how my musical filled days go. Until then, enjoy and thank you for reading. 


	26. Only Mark

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes: I'm dead on my feet at the moment. After tech week and a weekend of performances, not to mention skipping school today to catch up on homework all I need is a good hug. Why do I not own Adam Pascal on a leash somewhere? Sorry I'm again late on the update. I warn you, I've gone a little brain dead. Forgive me if this chapter sucks.  
  
Chapter 26 -Only Mark-  
  
+Mark's POV+  
  
I shuffle into the school, thoroughly disappointed my plan at faking sick had failed. In no mood to deal with either peers or teachers I slip into the bathroom, ready to avoid as much of the school day as possible.  
  
Shit.  
  
Not Roger, not now. I try to leave before he sees me, but I catch his eye in the mirror and know it's pointless to run. I notice the air is full of smoke and see Roger drop something in the trash. He coughs slightly and I narrow my eyes.  
  
"What was that?"  
  
He glares back at me. "What do you care?"  
  
Not used to him taking such a harsh tone with me I take a step backwards. "I thought you weren't into all this shit."  
  
He shakes his head and starts to push past me. "It's just a cigarette, Mark. A fucking cigarette."  
  
"What's wrong with you?" I ask him heatedly. As far as I know he's never deliberately avoided talking to me.  
  
He stops and turns to look back at me. He's not just angry, he looks pained as well but he's trying to mask it with the other emotion.  
  
"You know, Mark," He says quietly. "If you didn't want to be with me, you shouldn't have said anything." He looks at the ground.  
  
"What? What do you mean by. . ."  
  
He glares up at me again. "I looked up that word, stigma. That you used in the car before you left? Are you ashamed of yourself? Of me? Why did you bother, Mark?" He moves to leave again. "God, you're cruel." He mutters under his breath before walking out the door.  
  
I watch him go, stunned. I hadn't meant to hurt him by what I said. He probably thinks I was leading him on, that I don't even like him or something. I'm hurt that he believes that, but understand why he would. What else have I given him to believe? I start to open the door and hurry to try and find him before school starts officially.  
  
I jog slightly down junior hall, where I can only assume his locker is, and hope he's around somewhere. I don't see him, or too many other people, there's only a minute or two until class starts. I keep going through senior hall and finally to the front lobby when the bell rings. I see him leaving through the front door and run to catch up with him.  
  
"Roger! Roger, wait!"  
  
He hesitantly stops and waits for me to reach him. I run and stop in front of him, holding out my hands dumbly, as if I could stop him if I wanted to.  
  
"I didn't mean to. . ."  
  
Roger glares at me. "No one ever means to."  
  
I remember a very similar conversation last night at home. I cautiously reach out to touch him and am surprised that he allows my hand to grasp his. I feel his hand shaking slightly and I tighten my grip. I don't want him to hurt like this, I want him to feel content and be happy and perfect. Everything I always thought he was. I look up in his eyes and feel stupid for having lied to my mom, to myself. How could I deny this? I want those hours from the weekend back. Sitting next to each other, his arms around me, feeling his lips on mine, or on my forehead. Knowing he was there beside me when I fell asleep and listening to his heartbeat when I laid my head against his chest.  
  
"I'm sorry, Roger. I really am." I say quietly, still fearful of how he may react. "I'm just, well, not sure. No, I'm not not sure, I'm just. . ." I pull away. "Shit. I don't know. I don't even know what I mean."  
  
To my surprise he smiles slightly. "I understand, Mark. I think I do, anyway. Cause I feel the same way. I don't really know what we're doing anyway either, I just know that I like you and when I think about you and the way you smile, yeah like that." He says when I feel myself blush and look away shyly. "I don't know, Mark. It makes me happy."  
  
Roger looks back at the school. "Do you really want to go today?"  
  
I shake my head.  
  
He takes my hand again and pulls me toward the parking lot. "What do you want to do?"  
  
I shrug, watching his face as he thinks. He looks down at me. "I just got my paycheck, want to go back downtown?"  
  
"Paycheck? You work?"  
  
He laughs. "Don't sound so surprised. Just cause you're a slacker doesn't mean the rest of us have to be."  
  
"But you've never told me. . ."  
  
He shrugs. "Where did you think I get all my money?"  
  
"Whore yourself out? I don't know."  
  
I nudge him because he laughs loud and long, right outside of a full classroom.  
  
"No, I work a night or two a week washing dishes at that fancy restaurant in the next town."  
  
"Really? They pay good?"  
  
"Not bad. It's a lot of work even though it's only once or twice a week. I usually get fifty or so every week or two. When I get paid depends on how often I work."  
  
He opens the door for me and offers me a hand which I roll my eyes at and shove away.  
  
"I think I can manage."  
  
He winks at me. "You sure? The fairy princess always needs assistance from her gallant Prince Charming."  
  
"You're the fairy princess, you were the one picking out prom dresses and all." I snort. "And you, dear Prince, are far from charming."  
  
He looks offended. "I am nothing but!"  
  
I shake my head at him, but move over to sit against him once he's in the car. Slowly, in case I move away, he leans over and kisses my cheek. I allow it and lay my head against his shoulder when he pulls away again.  
  
"Do you need to get anything from home first?" He asks.  
  
I shrug. "How long are we staying?"  
  
"You want to stay the night again?" He tries to hide the hope in his voice, but fails. I smile to myself.  
  
"Yeah, sure. So yeah, I need to stop really quick."  
  
"Yeah, me too." He says, then grins. "I need to pick up my toothbrush."  
  
I elbow him gently and he laughs, winking at me.  
  
+++  
  
We sit next to each other on the small, stained bed. Roger looks over at me and hesitantly brings his arm around my shoulders. I move closer to him and tilt my head up to kiss his chin. He moves his head and presses his lips to mine. I pull away a few moments later.  
  
"I'm tired." I tell him. He nods and agrees. He moves so we can pull the blankets down and we both climb underneath. I slide back into his arms and he kisses my forehead gently. There's still light outside, but that doesn't matter to us.  
  
+++  
  
When I wake up I'm very conscious of the feel of his hands on my body. I don't normally let people touch me; I think it's unnecessary and usually inappropriate. I still haven't completely adjusted to Roger's frequent need for physical affection yet, though I've unknowingly started returning or initiating it. I realize I never called home to tell them I was sleeping somewhere else. That somewhere else being a seedy motel in New York City with my boyfriend that I don't have because I'm not gay. Or studying with Maureen as far as they'll ever need to know.  
  
I lift up my arm and check my watch. 10:23. They're still up, I could call and not be killed for it later. I remember seeing a payphone about a block away from here. Deciding it's a good option, I slowly remove myself from Roger's grasp and reach for my shoes. I stand and go to the door, digging through my pockets for change as I go. I open and close the door as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake him up. I think about the last time I walked by myself out here, but quickly push the thought away. I'll be fine.  
  
"Hello?" My mother sounds tired.  
  
"Hey mom, it's Mark. I didn't wake you did. . ."  
  
"Mark! Where are you? Why didn't you call?"  
  
"I'm calling now, aren't I?"  
  
"Where are you? Are you with. . ."  
  
"Maureen? Yes. We're studying. Roger's not even here. Make sure to tell dad that." I say irritably.  
  
My mother sighs. "I'd really rather you come home, but. . . What are you studying for exactly?"  
  
"History test. Civil War. It's hard stuff, we'll be up late so I'll probably just spend the night."  
  
She sighs again. "Alright, Mark. But please tell me before you do this again, I don't like when you just disappear like this."  
  
"Alright."  
  
"See you tomorrow, Mark. I love you."  
  
"Yeah, love you too, mom." I tell her quickly, and hang up.  
  
Walking away from the phone I shove my hands in my pockets. I feel bad for lying to her, but I don't want her to know the truth. She wouldn't care that I was with Roger, but where I was with Roger would be a little more cause for concern. Halfway back to the motel I hear my name being yelled. I turn around and realize that it's Roger. He doesn't see me, but he's walking on the opposite side of the street looking rather worried and calling my name. Now I have even more to feel guilty about.  
  
"Roger!" I yell. He looks over in my direction and starts running. He doesn't even bother looking before he crosses the street. That car that's turning isn't slowing down. Oh shit. I don't think I'm strong enough to. . .  
  
I don't think either, I start running. It all happens in a second. He stops in the middle of the street, I hear the squeal of breaks and I feel a breeze across my back as I run into him, pushing him out of the way. I fall on top of him and we roll together a couple of times before finally coming to a rest. I hear somebody yelling, then rubber burning as they speed away. Shaking, I open my eyes. Roger is looking up at me, his eyes wide and unbelieving.  
  
"What did you just do?" He asks me in a quiet voice.  
  
I pull myself off of him, and he slowly sits up. Using a car parked behind him for support he stands up and moves over to me. He takes my hands and looks down at them then back up at me.  
  
"Wow, Mark. Just. . . wow." He pulls one hand away and runs it through his hair. "I never would have thought. . ."  
  
I take my hand away offended. "That I would do anything for you?" I glare at him. "I care about you, Roger, whatever you may think."  
  
He smiles shyly. "Well, I mean. . . I've never seen you so motivated. When you started running toward me, it was kind of intimidating. And I never would have thought you'd be strong enough to move me that much." He grins and punches me in the arm.  
  
I rub at my arm. "Remind me to teach you how to hit like a girl. My arms are all bruised from your little 'love taps'."  
  
He blushes slightly. "Sorry, baby."  
  
I shiver. "Oh please, no pet names."  
  
"Can I still call you Marky?"  
  
I roll my eyes. "I wish I could threaten you believably."  
  
"Say you'll leave me." He smiles.  
  
"Fine. I'll leave you if you call me Marky again."  
  
He puts his hands up in mock defeat. "Alright, fine. It's Mark. Only Mark."  
  
I punch him in the arm with all my strength. He doesn't even flinch and he barely moves. He laughs and I fume, I can't do anything else.  
  
He kisses me lightly and takes my hand. "You're adorable when you're angry." He whispers to me as we walk. I know I'm blushing.  
  
"Faggots!"  
  
I cringe and pull away from Roger. He reaches for my arm.  
  
"Mark? Mark what's wrong?"  
  
I move so he's between me and the direction the voice came from. "Didn't you hear it?"  
  
"Hear what?"  
  
"Hey! Get a room you fucking queers!"  
  
Roger narrows his eyes at the offenders, who I see are two guys around our age. He starts to move toward them. I grab his arm.  
  
"Rog, let's just go back to the room. Please?" I beg him. I don't want to deal with this.  
  
He tries to shake me off and takes another step but I grab him again, with a firmer grip. "Roger, no. Come on, I don't want to do this."  
  
He stops and looks down at me questioningly. I shake my head and he gives up and follows me down the street. I can still hear them behind us, and I shiver. Once we're inside the room again Roger pulls me into his arms.  
  
"Mark, I'm sorry that you're offended by people like that. I'm sorry they bother you, but it's something you have to deal with. You can't hide behind me forever."  
  
"Why don't they bother you?"  
  
"They do, but not in the same way. You're scared of them, you care what they think. I just think they're idiots and would like a chance at putting them in their place." He rests his chin on top of my head and I close my eyes. He rubs his hands over my back gently. Already I feel better. God, I love him.  
  
I open my eyes. Wait, what?  
  
+++  
  
Notes Continued: Yes I know I'm pathetic and it's such a clique to end a chapter on that note. I'm so lame. Please review and tell me how much of a loser I am, and in return I'll actually update when I say I will. Deal? Haha... anyone else picking up the 'I'm emotionally and physically exhausted and hate everything but RENT' vibes? They're practically causing an earthquake over here. 


	27. I’m Bad For You

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes: I just reread the last chapter, sorry for the bitchy tone in the notes. Tired, you know? I suppose it wasn't so bad after all, and thank you to the three who reviewed 26 and told me so, you guys rule. Thanks to all other reviewers and readers as well!  
  
Chapter 27 -I'm Bad For You-  
  
+Roger's POV+ -two weeks later-  
  
I feel myself drifting in and out of consciousness. My whole body is sore, my arms so scarred and the veins so worn out I've started using veins in my legs and feet if I can find them. Not really very safe, from what I remember April telling me, but useful if you wanted scars you could hide. She used to do it, before she got really bad.  
  
I'm slipping back into my drug-induced stupor. I remember Mark vaguely, but all he is to me now is a memory. I'm sure that's probably all he's going to be, too.  
  
Something hard collides with my stomach and I gasp and clutch at it, opening my eyes and looking about frantically. I roll onto my back and stare up at one of Mark's roommates, don't remember his name, the sort of nice one.  
  
"Thought that was you." He says, a touch of sympathy in his voice despite the fact that he just kicked me in the stomach. I don't say anything, but watch him.  
  
He sighs and gets down on one knee beside me.  
  
"What happened?" He asks. "I thought you were going to give it up."  
  
I nod slowly, but the motion still makes my head swim and throb. "I did. I tried." I choke out. I feel my eyes welling up at the thought of Mark's anger. "I couldn't do it, I can't. I'm not strong enough."  
  
He shakes his head, but not necessarily in disapproval.  
  
"What started it again?"  
  
"There was a bag in my guitar case, I found some there."  
  
"And you. . ."  
  
"No." I say, struggling to sit up. He reaches out and helps me till I'm leaning against the wall, my legs stretched out in front of me.  
  
"I left it there. I wanted to tell Mark, but I was afraid of what he'd think."  
  
Again he shakes his head. "You should have told him, Roger. He would have been glad you told him."  
  
I shrug as best I can, and wince at the motion.  
  
"Doesn't matter. I bought some a week later, right when I walked out."  
  
He narrows his eyes. "Yeah, I wondered where my money had gone."  
  
I lower my eyes.  
  
"I understand why you did it, but that doesn't matter it any less wrong."  
  
I look back up at him. "I can't do this anymore. I can't sleep on the street, living between hits, knowing he hates me."  
  
His expression is almost gentle. "He doesn't hate you, but I won't lie, he's pretty pissed. But he's worried." He sighs. "We've been looking for you for over a week. Mark feels bad for kicking you out."  
  
"You don't want me there."  
  
"Not if you're a junkie I don't." He sighs again. "But you've tried to get clean, and you were for awhile. That's more than I can say for any other junkies I've known. And I saw what you went through for that." He looks into my eyes.  
  
"If you promise you're going to stop, really stop this time, I'll bring you back to him." He narrows his eyes. "But if you hurt him again I won't let him take you back."  
  
He stands up and holds out a hand. Weakly I reach for it and he helps me up. He holds me at arm's length, examining me.  
  
"You look like shit." He says, half amused, half concerned. I groan and start to fall. Laughing nervously he catches me and bends to put his arm under my legs and picks me up. It's possible I could walk on my own, but I'm not prepared to try so I'm actually glad for his help. I go limp in his arms and close my eyes when my head falls against his chest.  
  
+++  
  
I'm woken by his voice.  
  
"Mark? Mark, open the door." He kicks the door a couple times.  
  
A minute or so later the door opens and I open my eyes slowly. I hear Mark gasp as he reaches out to me.  
  
"Roger?" He looks up at him. "Collins, you found him?"  
  
"Yeah, found him in an alley a few blocks from here. Where's your shirt?" He asks, laying me on the couch. I notice for the first time his half-dressed state. Mark blushes profusely and won't look at me.  
  
"I just, got hot and. . ."  
  
"Marky? Is everything ok?" I hear Maureen's voice coming from his bedroom and she emerges, her hair tousled, in the same state of dress as Mark, save for the bra. I look from one to the other and especially at Mark's red, ashamed face. I sink into the couch, understanding. Collins shakes his head, in disapproval or shock I don't know, and goes into his own room, closing the door.  
  
"Oh, he's back." Says Maureen, looking at me, pained. I try to move myself, to stand. Mark hurries over to me.  
  
"Roger. . ."  
  
"Where'd he go? Collins!" I yell. "Take me back, I don't want to be here!" I look over at Maureen as Mark grabs my arms to force me to lie back down. "Sorry I interrupted." I say coldly. Mark tightens his grip on my wrists and I cry out in pain.  
  
"What's wrong, what?" He asks, concerned.  
  
"You're hurting me, Mark! Stop!"  
  
He lets go immediately, both of us fairly shocked at my growing weakness. He kneels beside the couch and wraps his arms around me. I see Maureen standing alone near the bedroom door, twisting her hair around her finger. When her gaze meets mine her lower lip trembles and she hurries into the room and closes the door. Mark pulls back and kisses my forehead.  
  
"I love you, Roger. I'm sorry. I feel like such an ass." He wraps his arms around me again. "I'm sorry." He whispers.  
  
I hate having him think that it's his fault, that he's the jerk. I push him away, or at least give him a clue that I want him to let go.  
  
"It's not your fault, Mark." I croak, my throat aching. I don't remember the last time I had something to drink. "I bought it, I did it. . ."  
  
"But you were trying, Rog. I knew how hard it was for you and I didn't even give you a chance. You told me how bad the cravings could get. And I. . ."  
  
"Are you and Maureen. . . together?"  
  
He pulls away from me, shocked, but I see it in his eyes. He's ashamed, embarrassed and guilty. He shakes his head though.  
  
"It was just. . . I don't know, Rog. I was sitting here upset that I didn't know where you were and that it was my fault if you were hurt or dead and she just put her arms around me and kissed me."  
  
I cringe and look away.  
  
"Roger, I love you. Please know I love you." He begs.  
  
I move away from him. "You should be with her, I'm bad for you. I don't know if I can stop, Mark. I really don't."  
  
"Of course you can! And you're good for me, you're the best. You're perfect."  
  
I shake my head. "I'm so fucked up. I'm not the same person I was, Mark. I can't just pick up where we left off in high school because that's not me anymore."  
  
He watches me with wide eyes. "What are you saying, Rog?"  
  
I meet his gaze, feeling my eyes growing wet. "I can't do that, Mark. I really can't. I don't want to hurt you anymore and the only way I know how to avoid that is by not being with you. If I'm not here, I can't hurt you."  
  
He shakes his head. "It doesn't work like that, Rog. You left me for New York and you weren't there and it hurt plenty." He reaches for my hand and I let him take it. "I don't want this Roger, we can't just stop now." His eyes are pleading but I shake my head.  
  
"No, Mark. This is the only decent thing I've done in my life. Let go of me, I need to leave." I start to move but find it very painful.  
  
"No!" He reaches out and pushes my chest back. He blinks a few times. "At least stay here. Will you do that for me? Please? I can't know you're out there alone. I want to know you're safe."  
  
It sounds like a good idea at the time, considering how much my head hurts. I lay back down. Mark stands up and leaves for moment. He comes back with a glass of water that I grab for eagerly, forgetting the pain and soreness in my joints and body. I spill some of it drinking in my haste. Mark laughs sadly and looks down at the floor. He gets up again and this time comes back with a blanket. He takes off my shoes and then lays it over my body.  
  
"Get some sleep, ok? We can talk more tomorrow I guess." He says sadly.  
  
I nod, already half asleep.  
  
+++  
  
"Roger?"  
  
I open my eyes, irritated.  
  
"What?"  
  
It's Maureen, sitting on the ground next to the couch, in a tiny pair of shorts and a little t-shirt. She's twirling her hair again, her eyes wide and sad. She looks down at the ground.  
  
"I'm sorry, Roger. That me and Mark. . ."  
  
"It's ok. Me and Mark aren't 'me and Mark' anymore."  
  
Her head snaps up. "Not over that! We didn't even do anything! And it's not his fault, I kissed him."  
  
I shake my head. "It's because of me. Because I'm an idiot. Because I fucked everything up."  
  
"Oh." She looks down again.  
  
"How long have you liked him?" I ask her.  
  
"High school." She says softly. "I thought we were just better off as friends at first, but then I got so jealous of you. But he was so happy, I couldn't think of saying anything. And once you were gone he was too depressed to really care either way. I've just never had a chance to tell him. And I wasn't sure if it would make sense anyway, or even if he'd accept me like that."  
  
I stare at the ceiling. "You can have him now. Take care of him, Mo." I look over at her and she looks up in my eyes. "But if you hurt him, I swear I'll kill you."  
  
She smiles wryly. "I don't need your permission, Roger. But won't it be hard for you?"  
  
I close my eyes. "Yes. But if I can just think that he's happy, I won't care. Please though, don't make it any harder for me that it will be."  
  
"You mean don't blatantly make out in front of you."  
  
I cringe. "Maybe I should leave."  
  
She's silent for a moment. "Did you ever consider like, real rehab? It might make it easier for you to get off of it. And if me and Mark. . . you know, you wouldn't be here."  
  
I consider it for a moment. "I don't have any money."  
  
She bites her lip. "I know this place, it's pretty cheap. And I work, so. . ."  
  
I stare at her. "Maureen, you can't. . ."  
  
"Mark wants you clean, he wants you healthy. I love him, I want him to be happy."  
  
"How long till you start being selfish again?" I ask her.  
  
She sneers. "Fuck you, Roger. I'm trying to help. Why do you hate me so much?"  
  
I roll my eyes. "Oh fuck off, Maureen. You were the one who was jealous of me, remember?"  
  
"Not of you, asshole, of what you had with Mark. I don't know what the hell he sees in you."  
  
I shake my head. "Me neither."  
  
Her expression softens. "I'm sorry, Roger." She says quietly. "Sorry that you and Mark can't. . . you know. I really am." She starts to leave but turns around and looks back at me one more time.  
  
"But I meant it. Think about rehab. I can at least help, and I want to. It might be good for you."  
  
I watch her go in her and Mark's room and close the door. I feel sick already. I wish Mark was here now. I close my eyes and try to sleep, distracted the whole night by the pain. The pain of no longer having Mark overpowering my need for heroin.  
  
+++  
  
Notes Continued: Don't worry, this is going to continue. What I'm going to do is continue this through RENT, which means Mimi will be in it for awhile and there will be a lot of drastic jumps in time. It might even go with Roger to Santa Fe. Then there will be more that happens after RENT. So all my fellow M/R fanatics: fear not, there is more to come. 


	28. Can I Keep Going?

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes: You m/r pervs (like me) will love this. The truth about this chapter is that I honestly had writer's block. I had no idea where to go from the last chapter to this one. It seems fairly obvious of course, but I just didn't know for sure if that was what I wanted right here and now. Well it's here now so enjoy what it is. You might recognize the opening scene that was described by Roger in a previous chapter. Thanks for reading/reviewing.  
  
Chapter 28 -Can I Keep Going?-  
  
+Mark's POV+  
  
I sit on Maureen's couch, recording her dancing. Roger suggested I spend some time with her for a while, but I ended up begging him to come anyway. He's to my left, playing his guitar. I point the camera over at Roger, focusing on him and zooming in on his face as he watches his fingers on the strings. He looks up and grins at me. I smile back, then turn the camera back on Maureen before she notices that I'm not paying attention to her.  
  
I think about Roger, though I'm filming her. I haven't allowed the thought of 'love' to come into my head since the first time. Not because I deny what I feel for him on any level, but because I honestly just don't know if it's possible. I've only known him a few months after all.  
  
Keeping the camera fixed on Maureen, I look over at him again. He's watching her, laughing as she almost trips. She glares at him, but she's smiling. I watch the way his eyes almost close when he laughs, the curve of his lips as he smiles. I wish Maureen wasn't here, because at the moment all I want to do is kiss him and have him rest his head on my shoulder. I want to touch him again, lay my hands on his chest, or have his arms around me. I want to have my fingers in his hair again, share his breath when he refuses to pull away after we kiss. I just want to be alone with him, with no worry about if Maureen or anyone else for that matter will catch me staring at him. Reluctantly, I look away.  
  
The next time I chance a glance at him, my eyes meet his and he smiles, but I know that smile. I've just caught him staring as I had been before. Pleased that I'm not the only one having trouble being entertained by Maureen I grin back and mouth 'I want to leave'. He nods and looks back at his guitar. Playing one final chord, he stops and claps for Maureen. She bows and blows me a kiss. I roll my eyes and shake my head, but smile at her anyway.  
  
"Mo, we're gonna go. I'll see you Monday, ok?"  
  
She crosses her arms and pouts.  
  
"But Marky. . ."  
  
I stand up and pull on Roger's arm before she can protest anymore. I'll start feeling guilty and we'll be here all night. He follows me, waving awkwardly at Maureen as we leave. I try to forget I'm ditching my oldest friend for my new boyfriend. I cringe thinking that. I'm still not used to calling him that.  
  
"Where are we going?" He asks me, as we walk to his car.  
  
I shrug. "Anywhere we can be alone."  
  
I blush, realizing how perverted that could sound. Then recognize that my thoughts aren't really all that pure to begin with. He comes closer to me and I elbow him gently. He looks over at me confused. I shake my head at him and motion back to Maureen's house where I know she's standing in the doorway watching us leave. He bites his lip and looks away, I can see his brow furrowed in thought.  
  
In the car I sit next to the window with my seat belt on, for once not directly beside him. I can see this bothers him, but he doesn't say anything. He parks outside his house and gets out, not waiting for me to follow him. I quickly undo my belt and hurry to catch up to him.  
  
"Wait, Roger!"  
  
He stops and waits for me. He won't look at me when I try to see his face.  
  
"Roger, look, whatever I did. . ."  
  
His head snaps up and he looks me directly in the eyes. I take a step backwards. I don't like to look in his eyes when he's angry or upset. They become so piercingly fierce and intimidating.  
  
"What don't you do, Mark?" He starts to walk again, then turns back and comes up close in my face. "What are you afraid of?" He practically shouts.  
  
"Roger, please. . ." I say, trying to quiet him.  
  
"What? Is someone going to hear me? Someone might know that we're together? I might be able to touch you in public? I might be able to hold your hand, or kiss you or even walk close together?" He pushes on my shoulders and I fall backwards and land heavily. "Well, good! Cause I'm sick of having to keep it all a secret!"  
  
I wince, and try to stand up. I look up at him and see his whole face soften. Immediately he kneels beside me and helps me up. Once I'm standing he pulls me into a tight embrace.  
  
"I'm sorry, Mark. I really am. I just don't understand. Help me." He pulls back, though he's still holding onto me, and waits for me to answer him.  
  
"I don't know, Roger. I can't handle it, I really can't. It's not forever, I promise. Just let me, you know, get used to it first. And let's be sure."  
  
He shakes his head, smiling. With one hand he tilts my chin up. "Oh, I'm sure." He kisses me gently and I allow it for his sake, though we're still standing out on his sidewalk. It's dark anyway. He takes my hand and leads me into the house.  
  
"Is your mom home?"  
  
He shakes his head. "She's started doing night shifts a couple times a week, so she won't be home till tomorrow morning." He grins. "Want to stay the night?"  
  
"I had already planned on it." Pretty confident we'd be spending the whole night out I had told my parents another lame Maureen-related lie. Although it wasn't entirely a lie, I had been there earlier.  
  
He kisses my temple as he pushes me gently toward the stairs. I turn around and pull him up with me, pressing my lips to his. He laughs against my lips and pulls away. Smiling deviously he grabs my sides and picks me up, easily throwing me over his shoulder. I beat on his back, but he just laughs and carries me that way up the stairs.  
  
In his room he throws me on the bed and lays beside me, drawing me to him. I move easily into his arms, pulling him on top of me. He kisses me ardently, his hands on my body, my chest, my waist, my arms. I feel them then, at the bottom of my shirt and he pulls back, his eyes finding mine.  
  
"Is this ok?" He asks me, breathlessly. I nod, and he carefully tugs my shirt over my head. I lay back again, and he kisses my chest, running his hands over my sides. I hear myself moan and I grip his shoulder tightly, needing something to cling to. I close my eyes as he kisses my neck, letting his tongue trail along my collarbone. His hands move farther down my body and again he pulls back.  
  
"Can I keep going?" He asks me. I hesitate for only a moment before nodding and whispering a choked 'yes'.  
  
He reaches down and pulls my shoes off, then places his hands at the fastening of my pants. I watch him undo them and start to take them off. I feel exposed, vulnerable, but when he wraps his arms around me and kisses me deeply, I forget it and succumb to him. Anything he wants, at this point he could have.  
  
He starts to kiss my neck again, then my chest. I lay still on the bed, apprehensive, yet not about to stop him. He looks up at me a final time for approval before his hands find my briefs. I close my eyes when I feel his hand and gasp when I feel his mouth. Although I don't want to imagine him having done this before, I don't see how he couldn't have. You can't just know how to do what he's doing with his tongue. Then again, I know what he can do with his tongue while he's kissing me. I don't know how long I'm going to be able to hold out. It certainly isn't going to be very long, I'm barely holding on now. He lays his other hand on my thigh and I moan when he intensifies his actions. Barely a minute later I'm clinging to the sheets.  
  
"Roger. . . I'm. . ."  
  
I can't finish before it happens. He doesn't move away and when I open my eyes I watch his face for a reaction. He pulls the blanket out from under us and lays it over me, then himself, reaching to remove his shoes. He wraps his arms around my waist and presses his front to my back, kissing the back of my neck gently. I shift in his embrace until I'm completely comfortable.  
  
"Roger?"  
  
He makes a noise to show he's heard me.  
  
"Don't you. . ."  
  
"You don't have to do anything you don't want to, Mark." He says softly.  
  
"Maybe I want to." I say, offended.  
  
"Whatever you want, Mark." He tells me.  
  
I turn around in his arms so I'm facing him. I reach for his shirt first and like he did for me, pull it off. His upper body is formed well, toned and hard. I like his arms most of all, the arms that have held me countless times. Always so comforting and strong, I love feeling them, being able to see all of them. When his pants are gone, and his boxers with them, I cautiously reach for him, comforted by his hand on my arm.  
  
"Roger?"  
  
"Hm."  
  
"What does it taste like?"  
  
He chuckles softly. "It's not horrible. Mark, you really don't. . ."  
  
"I want to." I tell him stubbornly. If he can do it, so can I. I move the blankets off of us and hesitantly move down and close my mouth over him. He moans softly, and the idea of pleasuring him gives me reassurance and confidence. He rubs my back gently, telling me what to do, how I'm doing. Although at first it's intimidating since it makes me feel like I don't know what the hell I'm doing, which is true, I find it helpful and start to listen to him and am rewarded with the increased pressure of his hand on my back and the rising urgency in his voice.  
  
"Marky, you don't have to. . ." He tries to say before he releases, but I ignore him. If he can do it, I can. It's really not all bad. I'm not going to beg for a glassful everyday, but it's tolerable. He pulls the blankets back up and I lay against his chest, his arms around me. He kisses my forehead and then settles back into the pillow.  
  
"Mark?"  
  
"Hm?"  
  
He pauses, which I find unusual for him. It takes him a moment before he continues. "What would you say if I said I think I might love you?"  
  
Despite my initial surprise I smile against his chest. "I'd say I love you too."  
  
+++  
  
Notes Continued: Oh sap sap sap! And smut smut smut come to think about it. I'm such a perv, making innocent little marky and rog-rog do dirty things together. I guess you can't help the way your brain works. Mine just happens to be a wee bit pervy. I don't really believe many of you will complain though. Thanks for reading/reviewing! I'll try to update a lot this week cause I'm leaving on vacation Friday and won't be back for a week or so. Florida. Boo-yah. Mickey here I come. But until then I hope you've enjoyed! 


	29. He’s No Longer Mine

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes: I've had this chapter written since I posted the last few, it was the chapter before this in Mark's POV that kept it from being posted. Hope you enjoy it now. Thanks for reading/reviewing!  
  
Chapter 29 -He's No Longer Mine-  
  
+Roger's POV+  
  
I stare at the wall, the white, clean wall. Alone in this room, only the bed I'm laying on.  
  
I beat on the sides of my legs, covering bruises from the morning and nights before with new ones. The medicines they keep giving me make me sick. And in a combination of those and my early withdrawal symptoms I haven't managed to go more than a few hours without throwing up. I miss Mark. When I sit here beating my hands bloody on the wall I know it could all be solved if he was here. I grab at my stomach and fall back onto the bed. But Mark's not here. I think I'm going to be sick again. Frantically I assess the room, but there's nothing to use. Not being able to hold it in anymore I lean over the side of the bed in desperation and throw up on the floor. It's disgusting because it's just blood and stomach acid mixed with that horrible shit they keep giving me. They wanted to inject me with something, something they said would really help the pain, but the nurse couldn't find a safe vein to put the needle in. If I ever shoot up again, after this, that's it. I'll give myself completely over to heroin, because I can never do this again.  
  
I let out an alien sounding cry of pain as another wave of sickness hits me. I grip the sheets on the bed tightly, then clench my fists so hard my worn nails leave little crescent shaped wounds on my palms. I feel the tears coming again and soon I'm bawling.  
  
The nurse opens the door.  
  
"Mr. Davis? We can hear you down the hallway. It's been almost a week, please contain yourself." I hear her sigh in exasperation. "I suppose I'll have to send for someone to clean that up." The door closes behind her. I barely noticed her presence. They're very critical and generally disapproving here. It was the same nurse that couldn't find a vein when I first got here. I glare at the closed door and then turn my head to look up at the ceiling again. I wish I could say that having Mark is worth this, but it doesn't matter anymore because he's no longer mine.  
  
+++ -after rehab-  
  
I stand outside the door, my shaking hand poised to knock. I suppose I should knock. I haven't lived here in over a month after all. I hear a giggle from inside and a guy laugh. I don't recognize that voice as either Mark or Collins, or even that Benny asshole. I knock on the door.  
  
I hear Maureen gasp and someone run to the door.  
  
"Who's there?" She asks, harshly.  
  
"Roger." I say.  
  
"Holy fuck!" She opens the door, her eyes wide.  
  
"Are you, you know, clean?" She asks me, hiding half behind the door.  
  
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm clean." I tell her.  
  
The door opens the rest of the way. I stagger backwards and drop my bag as she wraps her arms around me and kisses my cheek. I try to push her off, not really in any mood to be touched. She steps back, smiling. It's rather un-Maureen behavior.  
  
"What's wrong with you?" I ask her.  
  
"I'm just happy to see you." She says smiling. I pick up my bag and start to walk into the loft. She holds up her hands.  
  
"Don't go in there."  
  
"Why not? Is Mark here?"  
  
She shakes her head. "No, um. Roger you should come back later."  
  
"Later? Maureen I've been in rehab for a month. It's my first day out and I'd rather not spend it walking around outside when I can be here. My guitar's still there right?"  
  
She narrows her eyes. "Who's fault is that, you fucking junkie? Just go away!"  
  
I stare at her in shock. I crack my knuckles and am about to retort when she looks at the ground, then back up at me, biting her lip, her face desperate.  
  
"Please, Rog. . ."  
  
"Roger." I correct her fiercely.  
  
"Roger. Please, just go. I really need to you to. . ."  
  
"Maureen! What are you doing out there?" A shirtless guy comes out of her bedroom. A guy I don't know that certainly isn't Mark.  
  
"Who are you?" He asks, annoyed. He nudges her. "Baby, c'mon."  
  
I glare at both of them. "Baby? Maureen? Are you still with Mark?" I ask her, my voice shaking with anger. No wonder she didn't want me to come in, I had caught her cheating.  
  
"Mark?" The guy asks confused. "Oh right, the little guy with the glasses. She won't be much longer, right?" He grabs a hold of her arm, his tone harsh.  
  
She looks at me when she talks. "Actually, Josh, I think this is the last time I should see you."  
  
Josh glares at me as if the situation is my fault. He lets go of her arm, pushing her away roughly. She stumbles into the wall, almost falling. "Fine, bitch. You'll be back, you always are." He goes back into the loft and picks up his shirt from the couch. I take one look at Maureen's face and drop my bag, following him inside. I grab him roughly and though I'm not nearly as strong as I used to be, I manage to push him out of the loft.  
  
"Don't talk to her like that, and don't come back." I yell after him. Maureen gestures toward a duffle bag on the floor by the door, which I take to be his. I pick it up and throw it down the stairs after him. I go over to her and put my arm around her shoulders and lead her to the couch.  
  
"You ok?" I ask her. She nods, but won't look me in the eye.  
  
I sigh heavily. "How long has this been going on?"  
  
She bites her lip. "Well. . ."  
  
"Just don't say before I left."  
  
"I never actually broke up with him."  
  
I push her away. "What the hell is wrong with you? Is he the only one?"  
  
She shakes her head, curling against the other side of the couch. I realize I'm not treating her any better than Josh was. I run my hand through my hair, not knowing how to handle the situation.  
  
"Does Mark know?" Idiot. Of course Mark doesn't know.  
  
"Are you going to tell him?"  
  
Her head snaps up and her eyes are wide and sad.  
  
"No! And you can't either! It'll break his heart!"  
  
"You'll break his heart you mean." I push away and stand up. "God, Maureen, how could you? What is wrong with you? I knew you used to fool around a lot but, it's Mark! How long have you been friends with him? How could you do that to him?" I start pacing, unable to stand still. "Is it worth it? Huh? Is some random guy worth it for you? Will he treat you better than Mark will? Will he love you like I'm sure Mark does? Fuck, you're stupid."  
  
"Fuck you, Roger!" She yells, then pushes past me crying. I turn to watch her leave and come face to face with Mark. He's staring at me in awe, confusion and hurt. Cautiously he comes closer.  
  
"Are you. . ." He starts, softly.  
  
I nod. "All better." I say sarcastically. I sigh. "Look, Mark. I don't know what you heard. . ."  
  
Before I finish he has wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into a tight embrace.  
  
"I missed you." He whispers.  
  
I resist the urge to kiss his cheek or even his lips. He pulls back and goes to sit on the table. I follow him and hop up beside him. He sniffs and I see his shoulders shake and it doesn't take me much longer to realize that he's crying.  
  
"Oh, Mark! Don't! It's not worth it, please. . ."  
  
"You don't think so, you weren't here, Rog. I love her, I really do. I knew, don't think I didn't. But the fact that it's happening here, that she thinks I don't know, that she thinks she's protecting me by not telling me. . ."  
  
I lay my arm around his shoulders and he moves closer. I stiffen when I feel his lips on my neck.  
  
"I love you, Roger. I can't believe I let you talk me into thinking otherwise."  
  
I shake my head and pull away. "Mark, I told you. I can't do this. I'm not good for you anymore. I don't want to hurt you anymore."  
  
"But you're. . ."  
  
"That doesn't change the kind of person I am, Mark. And how do you know I won't start it again? What's stopping me?"  
  
"Me." He says quietly, in a whisper. I stand up and pick up my bag.  
  
"I love you too." I tell him softly, before I start walking into my old room.  
  
"Collins and Benny are gone." He says. "You have your own room now."  
  
I don't bother to let the information process completely, I simply change direction toward the other room, leaving him alone on the table.  
  
+++  
  
Notes Continued: This ends on a pretty down note. As usual, this is typically the more depressing half of the story. Read M/R in high school for some happy feelings. . . at least for a little while longer. 


	30. When No One Else Was Around To See It

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Boo-yah, 30 chapters! Same as my last chapter story, however, about twice as long in amount of words. Thanks everyone who's helped me have the confidence to last this long!  
  
Notes: I have to say, thank you guys so much. Those last couple reviews made my week. I love the rest of them as well of course, but joy2 and staticrader were too sweet. And staticrader the Roger/Maureen interaction was just for you, obviously you enjoyed. ;) I can't exactly make them great friends in this story, especially not in the 'present' version, but they get along once in awhile. I'm trying to write as much as possible and up until the last minute so my gone time will be as little as possible. Thanks again to you all and oh yes, this chapter is most definitely rated R. ;)  
  
Chapter 30 -When No One Else Was Around To See It-  
  
+Mark's POV+  
  
I film some people across the street, then turn the camera down onto my feet, watching them as I walk.  
  
"Marky? Are you listening to me?"  
  
I nod and adjust the strap on my backpack.  
  
Maureen sighs. "No you're not! I said we should protest the use of animals in biology class because killing them for science is mean!"  
  
"No, you just don't want to touch the frog you're going to have to dissect."  
  
"Did you know if you take A.P. Bio Senior year they make you dissect a cat?"  
  
"Wonder if Roger's taking that."  
  
She groans. "God, you're obsessed! You never see me cause you're always with him and when you finally do find time in your busy Roger- groping schedule to talk to me all you talk about is him!"  
  
"That's not true, wait. . . what?" I ask frantically, referring to her 'Roger-groping' comment.  
  
She rolls her eyes. "Oh please, Marky. I see how you look at each other when you think no one's looking. It's kind of obvious."  
  
If she knew, if it was that obvious, how many other people did? I swallow nervously.  
  
"Um, Maureen. . ."  
  
"I don't care, you know. But if you honestly don't want people to know, you should be more. . ."  
  
I hear a horn honk and turn to see Roger's car pulled over to the curb.  
  
"You want a ride?" He calls out.  
  
I see Maureen frown and almost say no before I grab her arm and pull her after me. I slide into the front beside him and Maureen reluctantly takes the back.  
  
"Just move my guitar out of your way, Maureen." He tells her.  
  
Feeling daring and knowing that Maureen already knows anyway, I move over next to Roger and kiss the corner of his mouth quickly. He looks down at me in shock.  
  
"Maureen knows." I tell him.  
  
He looks back at her and she nods.  
  
"Yeah. Like I told Mark, I don't really care, but it's sort of obvious."  
  
"Oh. Well, cool, I guess." He kisses my temple and puts an arm around my shoulders.  
  
"Where to?"  
  
I shrug. "I guess we can take Maureen home first."  
  
"What! Marky, you said all day! You said we'd hang out all day!"  
  
"Mo, it's almost 6, isn't that good enough?" I cringe at how basically heartless that sounds.  
  
"Whatever. Turn here."  
  
I wave at her when she gets out of the car. She just pouts at me. I lean against Roger even more and try to forget her. When he squeezes my side playfully I nearly do. I nudge him.  
  
"Stop that!"  
  
He laughs and squeezes me again. "Filling out there?"  
  
"Fuck you, you know I'm not."  
  
"Oh, sensitive. Don't be such a girl."  
  
I don't have a reply to that other than to laugh.  
  
"Is your mom home?" I ask him.  
  
He shakes his head. "No, why? You got something planned?" He grins at me and raises an eyebrow suggestively.  
  
"Get your mind out of the gutter, but maybe I do." I tell him sternly and wink.  
  
Feeling like a complete jackass I had ashamedly shuffled into the drug store earlier that day before I walked over to Maureen's house. Using the last of the money I had gotten for my birthday I bought a package of condoms. I stare at the pocket of my backpack where they are now. I have no idea if this is the right time or if he'll even be into it, but I have them if we need them. I lay my head against his shoulder as I so often do when we drive together.  
  
He parks in front of his house and I grab my bag from the floor before following him. He waits on the sidewalk for me, then looks at me hesitantly, and I know he's asking permission to touch me in some way. I look around the block cautiously, but there doesn't appear to be anyone around so I reach for his hand, which he gladly gives me.  
  
We're barely inside before his mouth is covering mine and I drop my bag and have my hands in his hair. He leads us to the couch and I fall backwards onto it with him on top of me. I let my hands move down onto his back and rest on his waist. My fingers play around the bottom of his shirt for a minute or so before he gets the idea and pulls away to take it off. He melds into me again in an instant. I move my hands so I can rest them on his upper arms. I love the feel of his muscle under my hands. He's much stronger than I am; my arms are thin and soft. I can feel his lower body press into mine and I moan against his lips.  
  
"Roger?" I manage to choke out.  
  
"What?" He asks in a breathless whisper.  
  
"Do you, no wait, get off of me." He moves to comply, thoroughly confused. I slide over to sit beside him and lean against him. Hesitantly he wraps his arm around me.  
  
"What's wrong?" He asks me, concerned.  
  
"Did you ever want to, you know, go farther?" I ask him cautiously. He doesn't reply and I can tell he doesn't really understand what I'm asking.  
  
"But we already. . .oh. Oh! Mark, why?" I can tell from his tone he probably hasn't even considered it. I guess I must just be perverted.  
  
"Forget I said anything." I tell him, embarrassed. I try to move away from him, but he holds me tight.  
  
"No, Mark? Why? Do you want to? I mean, I hadn't really even thought about it. Well, I mean, I had, but I didn't think you'd be ready for that anytime soon."  
  
"Why wouldn't I be?" I ask him, offended.  
  
"Well, I mean, you won't even let me hold your hand." He says carefully.  
  
"That's not true! I just did today!"  
  
"When no one else was around to see it."  
  
"So?"  
  
"So. . . it's pretty obvious you aren't entirely comfortable with me yet."  
  
I pull away so I can see his face. "You're wrong. It's not you, it's other people."  
  
"Why do they matter?"  
  
I shrug. "I don't know. It doesn't mean I don't want to be with you, or that I don't love you, I just don't handle criticism well. I don't like being singled out and I don't want to be a martyr or some kind of gay rights activist. I just want you. Is that enough? Do you understand?"  
  
He nods slowly. "I think I'm beginning to. I don't necessarily agree with you, but I think I understand why you feel that way."  
  
I smile at him and move back into his arms and kiss his cheek. "I do love you, you know."  
  
"I know." He says, his voice soft but at the same time still holding that edge desire will put into one's tone. "I love you too." He pulls back for a moment and looks down at me. "But were you serious before? You really want to. . . you know?"  
  
I nod. "I, uh. . . I bought us condoms." I say, feeling myself blush.  
  
He laughs and kisses my hair. "You're too cute."  
  
"I'm not cute." I retort.  
  
"Oh yes you are."  
  
I elbow him and he kisses me, his hands reaching to take off my shirt. I let him pull it over my head, then move back to him. He pulls back suddenly.  
  
"Upstairs." He says throatily. He gets up and I reach for my backpack, carrying it with us. Roger keeps his arms around me from behind, his lips on my neck the whole way up the stairs, making walking a difficult but not necessarily unpleasant affair. In his room I pull the box out of the bag and hand it to him. He looks it over and lays it next to his bed, then resumes undressing me. His body presses against mine, him still in his pants and I feel myself moan at the touch of the fabric.  
  
He kisses me hard, eagerly and I begin to unzip his own pants. When they're off I pull his body close to mine, my hands on his back, feeling the subtle power there. His lips move down and he closes his mouth over my neck, licking and nipping gently. I step backwards till I'm next to his bed, then slowly lay down on it. He lays on top of me, covering my body with his. His lips find mine again and he lets his hands trail down my sides, resting on my hips. He lowers his mouth to my chest, kissing his way down until I feel his mouth close over me. I groan loudly and grip his shoulders tightly.  
  
He pulls away before I'm close to release and reaches for the box next to his bed. He looks into my eyes.  
  
"Are you sure?" He asks me.  
  
I nod, watching him open it and take one out. He rips open the wrapper and holds it in his palm. He looks up at me expectantly.  
  
"You know how to work these things?"  
  
I laugh. "You're kidding?"  
  
He shakes his head, turning it over in his hand. "I think this way." He says, holding it in what I presume to be the wrong way.  
  
"Other way, I think."  
  
He turns it over and I take it from him. "Give me that before you hurt yourself."  
  
He grins and I reach down and slowly roll it on him. He looks up at me again.  
  
"You're sure, right? I mean, it's gonna hurt."  
  
I shrug. "It's ok. I'm fine." I tell him, though more worried now than before. "Just go slow."  
  
He nods and pulls my body closer to him. He looks up again.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Don't we need like, uh, lube or something?"  
  
I shrug. "Those things are all gooey, I think that's something."  
  
"Oh. Ok." He sighs. "I just don't want to hurt you."  
  
I reach for his hand. "It's ok. I told you, I'm fine."  
  
He smiles at me and then positions himself. It takes him a couple tries to even enter me, and when he does he wasn't lying, it does hurt. I wrap my hand around the arm that he's using for balance and hold it tightly until I feel the pain waning. I have to really concentrate on the fact that I chose to do this and that it's with Roger to enjoy it much at all. He leans over and kisses me gently.  
  
"Are you alright?"  
  
I nod.  
  
"Does it hurt?"  
  
I nod again.  
  
"Do you want to . . ."  
  
"No. It's fine. It's getting better. Don't stop."  
  
He doesn't look reassured, but kisses me again before continuing his slow rhythm. I know it's good for him, I can see it in his eyes. I can understand what people enjoy about this, but saying the first time hurts is a serious understatement.  
  
Afterwards he pulls me into his arms and holds me tightly. He covers the top of my head and the side of my face with his kisses.  
  
"You ok?" He asks me softly. "Did it hurt a lot?"  
  
I shake my head, ready to lie a bit to make him feel better. "No, it was great, really. It really doesn't hurt that bad. And I'm fine now." Which is half true. I'm sore but I don't want him to feel guilty or regretful. He smiles wearily and kisses me again.  
  
"Good. Because I love you. I don't want you to be hurt." He tells me. "I don't want to hurt you."  
  
"You won't." I tell him sleepily, shifting to a more comfortable position. "You're too good to me."  
  
+++  
  
Notes Continued: Wow, two mini Mark/Roger chapters in a row with nothing but pointless sex! It made my day, hope it does something for yours. More to come soon, thanks for reading! 


	31. I Can't Give In

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes: Sorry for my absence, I mentioned my vacation. Though my parents decided it would be fun to stay ALL of spring break, therefore I'm rather bitter about it. I have 4 chapters ready, I just have to type them so look out for all of them hopefully today but possibly tomorrow as well. :P Hope all you fellow schoolchildren had better breaks than I did! I only proofread each of these once so there might be a few grammatical mistakes. You can point them out to me if you'd like or I'll just find them myself later.  
  
Chapter 31 -I Can't Give In-  
  
+Roger's POV+ (a month later)  
  
I watch Mark and Maureen bitterly, balancing my guitar in my lap. He knows she cheats on him and that she likes to stay out all night but he either doesn't care or just wants to hold onto her. I sit on the table, watching them in what we consider our kitchen. Maureen is trying to find something to eat in a cabinet and Mark moves to wrap his arms around her from behind. She shrugs him off.  
  
"Marky, please."  
  
She resumes her search and I look down at my guitar so I don't have to see the hurt in Mark's eyes.  
  
"I'm gonna be late tonight." She tells him.  
  
"Of course." He says, leaning against the wall and sighing.  
  
She turns to glare at him. "What does that mean?"  
  
He shakes his head. "Whatever." He smiles feebly before turning to leave. "Have fun."  
  
He leaves her standing in the kitchen and goes into their room and shuts the door. I glare at Maureen.  
  
"Why do we never have any food?" She asks, annoyed.  
  
"Because we don't have any money." I tell her angrily. She had quit her job a couple weeks ago and since then finding food besides the now half- eaten box of Captain Crunch on the table had been difficult.  
  
"Well why don't one of you get a job?" She says, exasperated, finally just filling a paper cup with water from the tap.  
  
"You had a job, you quit!"  
  
"It was interfering with my auditions."  
  
I roll my eyes. "Then why didn't you say something then? You realize we have no money, no food and that fucker, Benny, turned off our electricity?"  
  
"So get a job! I'm leaving!" She slams the door on her way out.  
  
I shake my head at the closed door and squint down at my guitar. Though it's not entirely dark outside, it's getting nearly impossible to see well in here. I hear Mark's door open and turn toward the sound.  
  
"Is she gone?" He asks quietly.  
  
I nod, but realize he might not see it.  
  
"Yeah, she told me to get a job and left."  
  
"Oh." He comes over and sits on the table next to me.  
  
"I get paid tomorrow." He says softly.  
  
"Paid from what?" I ask confused.  
  
"I got a job about a week ago. I get paid for the first time tomorrow."  
  
"Doing what? Why? Why didn't you tell anyone?"  
  
He shrugs. "I wanted to wait till I got paid."  
  
"Where?"  
  
"Washing dishes at The Life." He shrugs again. "It doesn't pay very much, but we don't need a lot. Just food and your AZT. . ."  
  
I stare at him. How had he known that the half full bottle Collins had given me had run out two weeks ago? Is that really why he was working now? To pay for my AZT?  
  
"Mark, you don't have to. . ."  
  
"You need it, Roger. You should have told me sooner when you ran out. And you can't work or anything. . ."  
  
"Why couldn't I work?"  
  
"Well, you're still, I mean you still get sick sometimes, and you wouldn't want to do normal work anyway."  
  
"I'm fine, Mark! Dammit, I don't need you to take care of me!"  
  
He rolls his eyes. "Obviously you need someone to take care of you. Look what happens when you're on your own!"  
  
I stand up with my guitar and start to walk away.  
  
"Fuck you!"  
  
I hear him sigh quietly as I slam the door to my room. Damn him for being right, for knowing me well enough. I put my guitar back into its case and fall onto my bed. I wish I could hate him, I really do. But I have no reason to. It's not his fault. He still loves me and would take me back now if I asked him to. I can't possibly hurt him anymore than Maureen is, can I? But that can't happen, I tell myself stubbornly. No matter what, I can't give in.  
  
+++  
  
I open my eyes when I hear a voice outside my door. It's Mark and for a moment I think he's talking to me. I get out of bed and stand with my ear pressed against the door.  
  
"What am I supposed to do, Collins? I still love him! More than I could ever love Maureen, and believe me, I feel horrible when I say it because it's every bit as cruel as it sounds."  
  
He pauses and I know Collins is talking, probably very slowly in his calming voice to urge him to settle down.  
  
"Yeah, he's clean. He still gets sick sometimes, but he's better. But he won't leave the loft. He'll just sit on the table, holding his guitar, not playing it, just holding it and watching the floor or us if we're around. And. . . what?"  
  
"I don't know." I hear him sigh. "I know Maureen cheats on me, I know that's what she's doing right now somewhere. . ."  
  
"Yeah it bothers me, but what can I do about it? Having her there, knowing that I'm 'with' someone feels good, you know?"  
  
"I do love her, just not in the same way I love Roger. God, I wish you were here."  
  
He lets out a half-hearted laugh. "Yeah, I totally miss that passionate sexual encounters we've never had." He says sarcastically.  
  
"What do I do, Collins?" He asks desperately, his mood shifting back to depression and anxiety.  
  
"I guess. Thanks. When can you come back?"  
  
I hear him sigh. "Alright. Bye, then."  
  
I lean heavily against the door, hating myself. No matter what I do I end up hurting him.  
  
I go back to my bed, with my face pressed into the flat pillow, hoping to suffocate. I find myself agreeing with Mark in wishing that Collins was here. I barely know him, but somehow that doesn't seem to matter and might actually help.  
  
I suppose I can just sit here and pine for a while. I hear Mark knock on my door and softly call out my name but I force myself to ignore him.  
  
He deserves better anyway.  
  
+++  
  
Notes Continued: The phone works if there's no electricity. . . right? It does on my planet. I think. I don't really remember. Wow, 10 days in Florida and I'm brain dead. Must be the sun. 


	32. I’m Never Going To Be Ready

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes: Rated. . . R! Most definitely. :P enjoy!  
  
Chapter 32 -I'm Never Going To Be Ready-  
  
+Mark's POV+  
  
I stare at him unbelieving. I move out of his reach and look away.  
  
"I can't believe you! I told you I'm not ready for anyone to know! What don't you understand?"  
  
He narrows his eyes. "Don't talk to me like that, Mark. I didn't tell her, I'm asking you if I can. It's not like my mom is going to announce to the world we're together. She's not going to care and it would be easier for us and especially for me to not hide it anymore."  
  
He sighs and shakes his head. "Maybe you don't mind lying to your parents, but I do."  
  
"You lie all the time! You told me yourself she doesn't know where you go when we go to the city!"  
  
"That's different, Mark! She wouldn't even care if she knew I did stuff like that. This is totally different, I love my mom and I care about her and it's bad for me when she asks if anything's happening in my life and I have to say no!"  
  
"Fine, whatever. Go ahead and tell her."  
  
He hesitantly comes near me and I glare at him when he reaches for my hand. He brings it up to his lips and gently kisses the back.  
  
"Please, I want you to be there with me."  
  
His eyes are pleading, if I say no he might actually beg me, and despite how appealing the thought is, I sigh and nod slowly.  
  
Excited, he wraps his arms around me and my mouth is briefly crushed by his.  
  
"I love you!"  
  
He pushes me backwards on his bed and curls up beside me, his head on my shoulder.  
  
I smile despite myself.  
  
"I love you too."  
  
+++  
  
Later that night I hear Roger's mom pull up outside. I poke him in the arm but he doesn't move. When I poke him harder he grunts and rolls dangerously close to the edge of the bed. My arm tingles from having his body on it for several hours. I reach for him and pull him by his shirt back onto the bed.  
  
He opens his eyes sleepily.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Your mom's home. I thought she didn't get in till the morning."  
  
Already off the bed he shakes his head.  
  
"Her hours change all the time. C'mon let's go!"  
  
I hold back in shock.  
  
"Now?"  
  
He nods. "Yeah, let's go!"  
  
Hesitantly, I climb off of his bed and follow him downstairs. His mom is making coffee. When she hears us she turns and gives us a brief smile.  
  
"You boys want some coffee?"  
  
Roger looks at me but I shake my head.  
  
"Just for me then, mom."  
  
"Oh that's right, Mark likes tea. You want some of that, hun?"  
  
"Ok." I say cautiously. She already knows me better than my parents do.  
  
"Just go have a seat at the table, it'll all be ready in a minute."  
  
True to her word, a few minutes later Roger and I are both handed steaming mugs. She takes a seat as well, with her own coffee.  
  
"What'd you do today, hun?" She asks Roger, genuinely interested.  
  
Roger looks over at me and I manage a very small, but hopefully evident smile. He returns it, though his is significantly larger, especially when I gather my courage and grab his hand under the table.  
  
"Actually, mom, we, uh, wanted to tell you something."  
  
She smiles. "Ok."  
  
He takes a deep breath and squeezes my hand beneath the table. I look away.  
  
"Me and Mark, we're, uh, well, we're together."  
  
She stares. "You mean like. . ."  
  
He swallows. "Like he's my boyfriend, yeah." I can tell he's nervous. I squeeze back on his hand.  
  
I close my eyes and wait but nothing happens.  
  
"Ok." She says slowly. "For how long?"  
  
"Since the first time you met him."  
  
She frowns for a minute, but her face brightens when she sees the effect it had upon us.  
  
"Well that's fine, I'm just hurt you didn't tell me sooner, Roger."  
  
"Oh. Well. . ." He starts but I cut him off.  
  
"That's my fault. I didn't want anyone to know."  
  
"His dad is really against it." Roger says quickly.  
  
She smiles at me and her tired face looks so pleasant it fills my chest with warmth.  
  
"Poor dear." She says. She beams at the two of us. "Well that's fine, as long as you're both happy together. Be good to each other, and you," She points at me. "Are always welcome here."  
  
She stands with her mug and comes up behind us, kissing first Roger and then me on the cheek.  
  
"I'm going to bed, boys. Long day today and tomorrow too, I'm sure."  
  
Even before her footsteps fade on the stairs, Roger turns to me, grinning.  
  
"See! I told you she wouldn't care! Besides, she likes you anyway. She'd probably adopt you if she really knew how your father is. Or if we had the money." He adds thoughtfully.  
  
"Or if it wouldn't make the concept of 'us' slightly strange." I say dryly.  
  
He laughs, his honest, loud, pure energy of a laugh and I could fall in love with him again. He pulls me into his arms and kisses me. I press my body against his.  
  
"Do you have any more. . ." He whispers in my ear.  
  
"Roger! You mom will be down the hall!" I say, stepping back slightly.  
  
He chuckles and tilts my chin up with his finger.  
  
"You worry too much." He kisses my forehead.  
  
"Besides, no. You have them."  
  
He's pulling on my hands and I follow him, somewhat reluctant. But when he grins again I give up and we walk up the stairs together.  
  
In his bedroom he lies back on his bed and pulls me on top of him.  
  
"I want you to make love to me, Mark." He says softly.  
  
I'm taken aback. "I don't know, I don't know how. . ."  
  
He laughs. "And you think I did?"  
  
"Well. . . It's gonna hurt you know."  
  
He gives me a stern look. "You told me it doesn't."  
  
I shrug. "Not really anymore, the first time though, and. . ."  
  
"Mark! Why didn't you tell me I was hurting you?" He asks me desperately. This is exactly what I had always hoped to avoid, his face is stricken with guilt.  
  
"It wasn't bad, Rog. And there has to be a first time or it wouldn't have happened again."  
  
I kiss his forehead. "Don't worry about it. If I had really wanted you to stop I would have said so."  
  
He looks half convinced and kisses my lips gently.  
  
"I still want you to. . ."  
  
"But your mom. . ."  
  
"It's fine, Mark. She's probably already asleep, she's so tired, she won't even notice."  
  
Wanting desperately to trust him and for him to know what I feel with him I give in.  
  
+++  
  
"Am I doing this right?"  
  
"You haven't even done anything yet!" He says, laughing.  
  
"Shut up." I say defensively, but I'm grinning.  
  
I watch his face hesitantly. He rubs my arms and smiles.  
  
"It's ok, I trust you."  
  
Those words probably mean more than when he says he loves me. In this moment we're not just stupid high school kids experimenting, I see us as a real couple and as weird as it may still be Roger is my boyfriend. I kiss him quickly and position myself the way I've seen him do in the past.  
  
He gasps when I enter him and his grip on my arms tightens significantly. He closes his eyes and I can tell he's trying to relax. I lean over and gently kiss his forehead and then his lips. He opens his eyes and gives me a small smile. It feels really good to be inside of him and I'm encouraged to continue. I go slow, like he does, stopping if his grip becomes unbearable or if he makes a noise of particular pain. Eventually though, I can tell he's getting used to it and starting to sort of enjoy it. After one especially loud moan I clap my hand over his mouth.  
  
"Shut up!"  
  
His only response is to wink at me. I roll my eyes at him and pull my hand away, but he just grins.  
  
Later, my head pressed against his chest, listening to his soft, textured breathing, the comfort I felt earlier waivers. The fact that Roger uses words like 'love', 'trust' and 'make love', means something. Well, first of all it means he's far more mature than I am, but it means something else I'm almost afraid to admit. What happens when Roger realizes that I'm never going to be ready to hold his hand when we go out, or be together at school or actually tell my parents the truth? I keep telling him 'soon' and 'someday' but what if that never comes?  
  
I love him and I trust him too, but I don't trust myself yet.  
  
He groans.  
  
"Marky?" He whispers.  
  
"What?"  
  
"My ass hurts."  
  
I grin. "Poor baby."  
  
He chuckles softly and pulls me closer to him.  
  
"Stay here over the weekend?" He asks me.  
  
"Sure."  
  
I feel his lips on my forehead.  
  
"Good."  
  
He buries his face in my hair and a few moments later I hear his breathing steady. I close the last inch of space between us and settle in.  
  
+++  
  
Notes Continued: It's just too much damn fun making them do naughty things for me to go back to an actual storyline. :P 


	33. What We Had At The Beginning

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes: This is the last chapter before this part of the story starts to merge with RENT. Mimi should be popping up any chappie now, so watch for her. The RENT section won't be too long, I promise there will be more, uh, present day M/R slash in the future, POST-RENT. Hmmm... How to kill off Mimi this story? Lol. J/k. Until then, enjoy and thanks all for reading/reviewing.  
  
P.s. staticrader, you might enjoy this chapter, even if it is slightly evil of me. ;)  
  
Chapter 33 -What We Had At The Beginning-  
  
+Roger's POV+ (6 weeks before RENT)  
  
It's almost 4 in the morning. I sigh and glance over at Mark's closed door. Until about an hour ago we were both waiting up for Maureen together, me really just for his benefit. He got too tired though, and went to bed after I promised to do the same. However, after seeing the pain in Mark's eyes at having to go to sleep alone for the fourth time this week I decided to stay up and make one last effort with Maureen to get her to realize what she's doing to him. He's more sullen and withdrawn than I've ever seen him. He knows what's happening, yet can't accept it. No matter what I say he won't leave her or say anything. The door finally clicks open. If he won't, I will.  
  
"Where've you been?" I ask her in a heated whisper.  
  
She looks up in shock, squinting in the nearly dark room. We've got one candle burning on the table.  
  
"Roger?" She sighs. "What do you want?"  
  
"Where were you, Maureen? Do you have any idea what time it is?"  
  
"Are you really going to lecture me?" She asks, her voice rising.  
  
"Shut up!" I hiss. "Mark is sleeping. Not that you would actually care about your 'boyfriend'."  
  
She rolls her eyes.  
  
"If you're going to treat him like this, do him a favor and break up with him! Let him be with someone else who'll appreciate him!"  
  
"Like you?" She asks, coldly.  
  
I lower my eyes and clench my fists at her challenge.  
  
"Do you feel guilty at all? Doesn't it bother you?" I ask in a quieter tone, hoping it'll give me a more honest answer.  
  
It works. She pulls herself onto the table and wraps her arms around her upper body.  
  
"Yeah, it does bother me, Roger. Do you have any idea how horrible I feel when I wake up beside someone in the middle of the night that isn't Mark?"  
  
"Then why do you do it?" I ask, a little harsher than I mean to be.  
  
She shrugs and in the light of the flickering candle I can see her tears.  
  
"I can't stop." She whispers.  
  
I walk over to her and she looks up at me, her tear-filled eyes glistening in the candlelight. She's really pretty when she cries. I sigh and reluctantly open my arms to her. She smiles sadly and slides off the table and wraps her arms around my waist, laying her head on my chest. I hold her for a few moments and run my fingers through her hair, my other hand on her back. I feel bad for her because I know what it's like to have a problem that you can't resolve, even when it's hurting everyone around you. Mainly Mark.  
  
She pulls back and looks at me for a moment and I stare back, confused. Before I can ask her what's wrong, she presses her lips over mine. Shocked and angry I push her violently backwards. She falls against the table and the force knocks the candle off of it. It burns out on its fall to the floor.  
  
"You're a slut, Maureen! You know? You're just a worthless, fucking whore!"  
  
I go on and on, calling her every degrading name for a girl I can think of. She lies on the ground, crying. Someone pushes me, hard. I stumble and turn around, my fists raised.  
  
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" He yells. He comes forward and pushes me again, harder.  
  
"What did you do to her, Roger?"  
  
He comes closer but I can't justify hurting him to defend myself, so I make no move when his fist connects with my face. It's a lot harder of a punch than I figured Mark could throw. When I stand there holding my face he goes to her and helps her up, holding her close. I can still hear her crying after he closes the door to their room.  
  
+++ (one month before RENT)  
  
I've stopped talking to Mark, or more accurately, he's stopped talking to or caring about me. For a few days they were closer than they've probably ever been, but then it went back to normal, only Mark waits up alone these days. He doesn't want me there, he doesn't want me anywhere really. I know he's out there now, sitting on the table holding his camera, swinging his legs. I hear the door open and him set his camera down and slide off the table. I quietly open my door an inch and watch them through it.  
  
Mark asks her where she was in a sad, soft voice. Instead of her usual jovial reassurance for him, she sighs deeply and walks up to him and takes his hands.  
  
"Marky, we have to talk, sweetie."  
  
"What's on your neck?" He asks her.  
  
Probably a hickey. Or two, I think bitterly.  
  
"Oh, it's. . ."  
  
"And on your collar?"  
  
I lean closer to the door. He pulls one of his hands away and touches her neck. He looks at his fingers.  
  
"Is that. . . lipstick?" He asks, unbelieving.  
  
I cringe when she looks down and nods.  
  
He drops her other hand and takes a step backwards.  
  
"Women now too?" He asks her. I think it's the first time he's ever directly confronted her about her cheating.  
  
"Woman." She says softly. She looks up hopefully. "Her name's Joanne. You'd like her, Marky, she's really nice!"  
  
"I'd like her?" He screams. Maureen backs up. I've never seen him yell at her before.  
  
"I don't want to like her, Maureen! I don't want to know her, I don't want there to be a 'her'!"  
  
"Marky. . ."  
  
"Why am I not good enough for you?" He sits on the table again. "For either of you?" He whispers. I don't want him to know I'm listening so I say nothing, though I desperately want to correct him.  
  
Maureen rushes to him and grabs his arm.  
  
"No, it's not like that, Marky! I love you! You're my best friend ever but," She pauses and bites her lip. "I guess we just don't work together as a couple." She sighs. "I love Joanne now, and she wants me to move in with her." She finishes.  
  
Mark sits there stunned as Maureen goes in their room. She comes out a few minutes later with a small bag. She stands next to him awkwardly.  
  
"I'm gonna go back there, I'll come back for the rest of my stuff tomorrow or something. Please still be my friend, Marky. I love you."  
  
She kisses him on the cheek and hurries out the door.  
  
Ignoring the fact that he'll probably be even more upset that he knows I'm here, I open my door the rest of the way and move out of my room towards him.  
  
"Mark? Mark, are you ok?"  
  
Instead of being angry or crying or something else horrible that I expected, he completely shocks me by laughing. Not just subtle chuckling but a loud, continuous, real laugh. He rests his head in his hands and his shoulders shake from the force of it. I cautiously step closer to him, hoping this is a good sign.  
  
"Mark? Hey, uh. . ."  
  
He looks up and when he sees me he gestures for me to come closer, which I gladly do.  
  
"She's leaving me," Laughter. "For a woman, Rog!" More laughter.  
  
"That's funny?" I ask, hesitantly.  
  
"Damn right it is!"  
  
Cautiously I climb up on the table beside him and he leans against me, still laughing. I put my arm around him at the same moment his laughs turn to tears. His shoulders, his whole body, still shake with the same velocity but the only sound that comes from him now is a soft choked sobbing. I put my other arm around him and hold him close as he cries. I kiss his forehead gently, but when I do he stiffens and pulls away.  
  
"You can't do that, Roger. You can't tell me you don't want to be with me and then do stuff like that."  
  
"I didn't mean to. . ."  
  
"I know you didn't, but I'm just telling you that you can't. It makes what we have really confusing."  
  
"What exactly do we have, Mark?" I ask him slowly.  
  
He smiles sadly. "What we had at the beginning. Friendship."  
  
I return his smile and nudge him in the side. He nudges me back.  
  
"Yeah, I think I can handle that."  
  
+++  
  
Notes Continued: I have one more chapter written, but I'll probably post it tomorrow. So it's great to be back and I'll be back on schedule soon. I also got another story idea while I was away on vacation. I don't know if it's going to be a smaller side project or my next epic, but it's forming in my head. I will say that it's pre-rent, and again involves Maureen/Roger/Mark, however sadly, not slash. Which means it'll probably be a mini-chapter side story. Fun for the whole family. Not quite as far back as this story goes though, more like a year or so before RENT. If I decide to start posting it while I'm still working on this one I'll let you all know in case you're interested. Thanks for reading! :P 


	34. Forget Everything

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes: Last chapter I wrote over break. You can really tell I wrote this on vacation. Assume the long weekend spoke of in this chapter is over thurs, fri, sat, sun and mon, with Marky returning on Monday. :P  
  
Oh, and the stuff about Florida tap water is based on my personal experience. (fucking tap water) you'll understand when you read it.  
  
Chapter 34 -Forget Everything-  
  
+Mark's POV+  
  
-a few weeks later-  
  
Roger lies next to me on top of his car.  
  
"So, family vacation, huh?" He asks me.  
  
"It's just over the weekend."  
  
"Yeah, the long weekend. Five days I'm not gonna see you."  
  
"You'll live."  
  
"What if I don't?" I look over to make sure he's kidding. He is, of course, his face split into his usual grin.  
  
"I die, without you." He sings softly.  
  
I nudge him. "I'm sure you'll be able to keep yourself occupied."  
  
"So where're you going?" He asks me.  
  
"Florida." I sigh.  
  
"Florida." He sighs, then brightens significantly. "Are you gonna see Mickey?"  
  
I smile despite myself. "I wish. We're visiting relatives."  
  
Roger makes a face. "Ew, it's a real family vacation."  
  
I laugh at his reaction.  
  
"We should go on a road trip after senior year, I'll take you to see Mickey." He says. "He's a cool guy, you'll like him."  
  
"After your senior year," I remind him. "I'm only a junior."  
  
"Oh. Yeah." He says after some thought. "I forgot."  
  
"It doesn't matter, we can still go." I tell him.  
  
He looks over at me. "What are you going to tell your parents, you moved in with Maureen?"  
  
I swallow. "Maybe I'd tell them the truth."  
  
"That you're with me? Their innocent baby boy driving around the country alone with that damn queer? That'll go over well."  
  
"It's not like that, Roger."  
  
"That's the angle you're comfortable with I bet." He pulls something out of his pocket. It's a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He shakes one out and lights it, shoving the stuff away again.  
  
"Roger. . ."  
  
"What?" He asks harshly.  
  
"You shouldn't smoke." I say quietly.  
  
"Why? Does it not fit into your perfect Christian ideal life?"  
  
"I'm Jewish."  
  
"Whatever! Admit it, I'm not good enough for you! You're embarrassed of me!"  
  
"Only when you do shit like this! Why do you get mad like this? I didn't do anything!"  
  
He exhales and blows a large amount of smoke into the air. I cough when some floats over my way.  
  
"Yeah, you don't do anything. And you don't seem to mind what your parents think about me."  
  
I sit up and climb off the car.  
  
"I don't want to leave mad at you."  
  
"You might as well, you'll leave with me mad at you."  
  
"Fine! Forget it! Forget everything! I'm so sick of you, Roger! I'm sick of you ripping into me for no reason and accusing me of not wanting to be with you. If you need drama like that that's your problem, not mine. Cause I don't!"  
  
He sits up and looks down at me and I know he's sorry, but I turn around and start walking away.  
  
"Mark! Mark, wait! Please?"  
  
I ignore him.  
  
+++  
  
I shouldn't have left like that because a few days later, sitting on my grandma's couch drinking Florida tap water, which has a strange metallic and salty taste, I wish I had something good to look forward to when I went back. I can see my parents talking in hushed voices with my grandparents and pointing over at me. My sister is outside sunbathing. I turn the TV on and flip through the channels till I find a movie channel. The movie doesn't seem too promising, but it's something to do.  
  
A minute or so later the adults file into the room, somber. I click the TV off and look up at them expectantly.  
  
"Mark? Is there something you want to tell us?" My mother asks.  
  
I shake my head and drink my water.  
  
"About," My dad pauses. "What's his name?" My mom whispers something to him. "Roger?"  
  
"No." I say defensively. Too much so. They stare at me suspiciously.  
  
My father sighs. "Mark, we think we have a solution."  
  
"To what?" I ask, cautiously.  
  
"To make this boy leave you alone, to this whole 'gay' thing."  
  
"I'm not gay!" I insist.  
  
My mom cocks her head knowingly. I know she doesn't believe me.  
  
"Well, I think you should live here." My father announces.  
  
"What!" I stand up and drop my glass. "But if I'm here I'll never see. . ."  
  
They all stare.  
  
"Maureen!"  
  
"Who's Maureen, dear?" My grandma asks.  
  
"My girlfriend!" I yell, thinking quickly.  
  
"Girlfriend?" Asks my grandfather.  
  
My mother stares at me skeptically. "Since when?"  
  
"A few months." I lie, praying they'll buy it.  
  
I know my mom doesn't, but my dad smiles in relief.  
  
"That's why you're always over there."  
  
"Besides for homework." I agree.  
  
"Well then." He says, grinning. "I'm glad you got whatever that was out of your system." He claps me on the shoulder and then starts talking to my grandparents, all of them looking generally happier.  
  
My mom grabs my arm and pulls me into one of the spare bedrooms.  
  
"Ow. What?"  
  
"I want you to tell me the truth, Mark. I know you're not dating Maureen and I know you spend all those nights with Roger. What's going on?"  
  
She's not angry with me at all, just worried and curious. I know I'm not going to be able to lie to her much longer.  
  
"I won't tell your father. If you want him to think you're with Maureen I can understand, but I want to know the truth."  
  
"I'm gay." I whisper.  
  
"What?"  
  
I look up at her. "I said I'm gay! Roger's my boyfriend, has been for months and I love him!" I clap my hand over my mouth and sit down on the bed.  
  
She wraps her arms around me and kisses my cheek.  
  
"Ok. It's not what I would have wanted for you, but ok."  
  
She gets up and starts to open the door.  
  
"Mom? I'm not staying here, am I?"  
  
She smiles and shakes her head, then walks out. I follow her and get myself another strange tasting glass of Florida tap water.  
  
+++ -Back in NY-  
  
As soon as I'm home, at almost 10 Monday night, I walk over to Roger's house, hoping the fact that I told my mom about us would help me redeem myself. However, when I get there his mother tells me he's not home.  
  
She shrugs. "He hasn't been home for nearly two days. You're welcome to come wait for a while, I could use the company anyway." She smiles warmly and I accept and follow her into the house.  
  
"Tea, dear?" She asks. I nod and sit down at the table.  
  
"Where is he?" I ask her.  
  
"I don't know, like I said, he hasn't been home in almost two days. Not while I've been here anyway."  
  
"Aren't you worried?"  
  
She sighs. "Yes, but I'm used to it, he does it all the time." She turns and looks back at me for a moment. "I haven't seen you for awhile. You're getting along together, right?"  
  
I shrug. "We sort of had a fight before I left on vacation this weekend."  
  
She comes back to the table and hands me a mug.  
  
"Roger can be a difficult person. Very sweet, but he's stubborn and always will be." She lays her hand over mine for a minute, then stands up and takes her coffee mug over to the sink.  
  
"I have to go to work, you're welcome to stay as long as you want, wait for him or just sit. Don't lock the door if you leave though, I don't think he has a key."  
  
She kisses my forehead and leaves through the front door.  
  
I sit in the kitchen for a while and rinse out my mug when I'm done. I'm about to leave when a car pulls up outside the house. It's not Roger's. I open the door and see April and some guy I don't know pull Roger out of the backseat and lay him on the grass. April sees me and she hits the guy on the arm and they hurry back into the car as I start running toward Roger. I fall down next to him as the car pulls away, not putting it past April to have given him something bad or even have left him here dead. I hit his face gently, then harder when he doesn't respond.  
  
"Roger?" I cry frantically. He moans and moves slightly. I stand up and hook my hands under his arms and attempt to pull him toward the house. He moves an inch or two before I drop him. He's too heavy for me to carry. I kneel next to him again.  
  
"Roger?" I nudge him. "Baby?" I joke. Blinking profusely he opens his eyes slightly.  
  
"Marky?" He laughs, but it's not his laugh, it's a high pitched giggle that sounds strange and foreign. "Marky? Guess what!"  
  
"You're a complete jackass?" I ask him, relieved and angry.  
  
He giggles again, his eyes strangely unfocused. "Guess what April gave me!"  
  
"I don't think I want to know."  
  
"Oh yes you do! Lots of pills, little pills full of fun! For the pain to go away, away. . ."  
  
He giggles so much he starts coughing. His hands are shaking when I reach for them. By now I'm really worried, I don't like the sound of this. He squeezes my hands.  
  
"Marky?" His mood shifts dramatically. "I think I'm gonna be sick."  
  
"Shit." I help him roll over and he pukes in the grass. I rub his back gently even though it's making me gag to be near him. He's sweating now and shaking horribly. When I lay him back down I kiss his forehead and stroke his hair.  
  
"Mark?"  
  
That sounds more like Roger's voice. It's scared and small but it's definitely him.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
I shake my head. "It's alright, Rog, it doesn't matter."  
  
"I love you."  
  
I kiss his head again. "I know."  
  
He smiles slightly and closes his eyes. I nudge him and he opens them again.  
  
"Don't do that, Rog, please. I'm gonna go call an ambulance ok? Please don't fall asleep while I'm gone."  
  
"I try." He murmurs, closing his eyes. I hit him again. He still looks distracted and sick, but sheepish as well now.  
  
"Sorry."  
  
Hesitantly I stand up and run inside. I grab the phone and dial. Dealing with the stupid bitch on the phone is infuriating, especially because all I can tell her is his friend gave him some sort of pill, but I convince her to send an ambulance.  
  
I hurry back out to Roger. As I'd expected, he'd fallen asleep.  
  
"Rog? Roger, wake up."  
  
He doesn't move when I shake him. He lies on his back, his mouth open, eyes closed, not moving. I hear the dim sound of an ambulance and I realize he has passed out.  
  
+++  
  
Notes continued: he's not gonna die, he has to be alive to make sweet, sweet love to Marky in later chapters. But, well, duh. He has to still be alive for the musical. This is where you'll see really the development of two conflicting drug related Rogers. The one where he's above all of that, and the other where he uses them to escape pain, usually Marky induced pain which is usually caused by Roger's own dumbness. But that's why we love Roger, because of his Roger dumbness. :P thanks for the reviews, thanks for reading!! 


	35. Alive

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes: Sorry this took so long guys, this was a really hard chapter to write, cause I didn't know exactly how to do it. I didn't want to use a lot of dialogue from RENT, so the RENT chapters take place in breaks in time in the musical or when certain characters are offstage. This first one is right after Mimi leaves after 'Light My Candle'.  
  
Chapter 35 -Alive-  
  
+Roger's POV+  
  
I close the door behind her and lean against it.  
  
They call her Mimi.  
  
I call her beautiful.  
  
But no, dammit. I saw her smack, I held the bag, and for a moment I wanted it all, I wanted her. Good thing she's gone, I think, glaring fiercely at the door as I back away from it. She's the last thing I need.  
  
I sigh.  
  
Like the powder she held in her hand, I don't need it, but I sure as hell want it.  
  
Another time, maybe, another place. If I wasn't sick because of what she's killing herself with now. If she wasn't so young and beautiful, her sweet little mouth curving in such a way that made me think of April before heroin. Maybe just if I wasn't me. And if I didn't still love Mark.  
  
G chord. This guitar's shit. I set it down and rest my head in my hands.  
  
Maybe it is time to start living again. What has it been? I calculate in my head, nearly 6 months. I stare at the door longingly. The secret of life is in that girl.  
  
Huh. Right. Just like I used to think it was in April and the way she lived all those years ago in high school. Look what's happened to me anytime I got involved in it. Maybe those two can handle it, but I obviously can't.  
  
April handled it well, certainly.  
  
I cringe, thinking of the blood. Bloody water in the bathtub where she lay, her blonde hair floating out around her, the lips curved upwards into that horrible smile. Eternally seductive, forbidden, illogical and erotic. But dead.  
  
Mimi's mouth, that lovely little pout she has. Alive.  
  
Mark staring at me in hurt and disbelief when I told him we couldn't be together.  
  
My own reflection, thin and sallow. Bitter and cold. What do I have to share with anyone anymore? I used to be alive. I used to be able to walk into rooms the same way that Mimi does, with that insufferable confidence. I used to pull everyone through life with me. My friends, my band, my mom, Mark.  
  
Now all I do is hold everyone back.  
  
It's not too late to start again. It's not too late for me. I walk toward the door and pick up my coat. I don't remember the last time I wore it. I start to slip it on, then drop it and kick it out of the way.  
  
An unfortunate lack of faith on my part stops me. What if I go out there and fuck it all up again? What if I see The Man and start begging for smack? What if I see Mimi and I'm tempted? I'm so enthralled by the unfamiliar presence I wouldn't doubt it. What if I see Mark? He can't know that after months of trying to persuade me to go out for a walk, or out filming with him or to find another band or do much of anything, that a perfect stranger, a sweet little girl with a beautiful mouth, enticed me to resume my place in the world.  
  
I pick up my guitar again.  
  
I still love him.  
  
I sigh.  
  
And I hate myself for it.  
  
+++  
  
Notes Continued: Yeah, it's really short, sorry. And nothing really happened either! Mmm. . . pointless. All right, I promise more will happen for Roger next R POV chapter but for now indulge in a little Markness! Proceed to Chapter 36 and be enlightened! 


	36. To Me At Least

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes: Filler chapter, not much really happens. Roger and Marky being mushy at the hospital, Roger and Marky being mushy at home. Fun for the whole family. :D enjoy!  
  
Chapter 36 -To Me At Least-  
  
+Mark's POV+  
  
Though the paramedics had reluctantly let me ride in the ambulance with him, I'm separated from Roger as soon as we get to the hospital. I walk around the waiting room, kicking the chairs, frustrated. The receptionist glares at me. I can't help the fact that after almost two hours I'm a little anxious to find out what happened to Roger. My throat feels really dry and sore.  
  
I dig my hand into my pocket and come up with two dollars. I look over at the receptionist.  
  
"Where's the cafeteria?" I ask her.  
  
She rolls her eyes and points at a floor map of the hospital. I sigh and walk over to it, figure out it's in the basement, and head for the elevator.  
  
I buy myself a small Styrofoam cup of coffee. I hate the taste of it. How does Roger, or anyone for that matter, drink this? I take one more drink, cringe and throw the half full cup away.  
  
"Mark?"  
  
I turn around and see Roger's mom. I had forgotten she was a nurse. She's holding a cup of coffee identical to the one I just tossed.  
  
"What're you doing here, hun?" She asks, smiling.  
  
"Roger's here." No point in hiding it from her, he's her son.  
  
Her free hand goes to her chest.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Some of his friends dropped him off in front of your house and drove off. He passed out and I think he was on something, he mentioned something about pills. . ."  
  
"Well, we'll just go see where they've put him." She sets her coffee down and takes my hand and pulls me with her through the hospital.  
  
She talks to the same unpleasant receptionist in the main lobby that I had seen earlier, and after a few moments of the woman's generally unhelpful behavior, Roger's mom gets angry.  
  
"He's my son! I would like to know what's wrong with him and where he is! I'd hate to think that's a problem for you!"  
  
The sudden temperament change reminds me of Roger's occasional outbursts.  
  
The receptionist raises her eyebrows, but is otherwise apathetic to her behavior. She looks it up and tells her a room number and floor and soon I'm being pulled after her toward another elevator. She says nothing to me for a few moments, then looks over at me while we're standing in the elevator.  
  
"You called the ambulance for him?" She asks me.  
  
I nod slowly. "I didn't have a car or anything. . ."  
  
She pulls me into a soft hug and kisses my forehead.  
  
"Thank you." She tells me. "You're a good boy."  
  
The elevator opens and she again takes my hand and pulls me after her. Not bothering to knock she pushes open the door of his room. There's another nurse in there and a doctor, blocking my view of the bed. When he finally turns around to see who's come in I can see Roger and I exhale deeply, because though he looks pale and tired, he's alive and no one in the room except for his mom looks worried.  
  
She goes over to the side of the bed and reaches for his hand. When she takes it he opens his eyes and smiles weakly at her.  
  
"Hey mom." He says, his voice quiet and hoarse.  
  
She sighs with relief. "What did you do, Roger?" She asks him in a gentle voice.  
  
He closes his eyes then opens them again and does his best to shrug.  
  
"April. . ."  
  
She glares. "I thought you told me you stopped seeing that girl."  
  
"Mostly. . ."  
  
She sighs again. "Whatever, but you know I don't like her." She kisses his forehead. "I'm just glad you're alive. I didn't know what happened." She looks up at the doctor. "I still don't."  
  
The doctor sends a disapproving look down at Roger before responding.  
  
"He's had his stomach pumped. Slight overdose of one of the 'club drugs'." He looks down at Roger again. "Shouldn't mix those with alcohol either."  
  
His mom looks offended. "Roger doesn't drink."  
  
The doctor gives her a long look and raises an eyebrow but says nothing. The other nurse comes over and tries to convince me to leave. I look desperately over at the bed and Roger's mom sees me.  
  
"No, he stays."  
  
"It's really only supposed to be family members." The nurse mutters and resumes checking the IV bag attached to Roger's arm.  
  
His mom smiles at me. "Come here, hun. It's alright."  
  
Roger raises his head and looks away from his mom for the first time.  
  
"Mark's. . . here?" He asks softly.  
  
Cautiously I walk toward the bed and stand opposite of his mom. He looks up at me.  
  
"You're, here." He says.  
  
I nod. I think about taking his hand but I'm not sure if I should, especially when I see everything it's hooked up to. But when he slowly reaches his hand up, his fingers shaking horribly and hope in his tired eyes, I entwine my fingers with his and kneel next to his bed. While the doctor is talking to the nurse and not paying attention I kiss his hand quickly and he smiles.  
  
"My stomach hurts." He tells us, closing his eyes. His mom strokes his hair.  
  
"Poor baby." She whispers with that identical, however sadder, smile.  
  
Another nurse comes in.  
  
"Hey, Linda, they need you downstairs." She calls.  
  
Roger's mom kisses him again and lets go of his hand.  
  
"I'll be back after my shift, ok?" She tells him.  
  
He nods and glances over at me. "Can Mark stay?"  
  
His mom looks at the doctor who looks as though he's about to say no, but then reluctantly nods.  
  
"For a while," He says. "But cooperate with the nurse. If she comes back and tells you, you have to leave, come back when she says it's alright."  
  
I nod, still holding Roger's hand. I feel him squeeze my hand weakly and I squeeze back and smile at him.  
  
The doctor, nurse and Roger's mom leave and we're alone. He turns his head slightly to look at me.  
  
"I'm sorry." He whispers.  
  
"You already told me, it's alright. I'm sorry too." I pause for a moment and just look at him. Somehow, despite the fact that he's sick in the hospital, he manages to look perfect. To me at least.  
  
"I missed you." He says softly, closing his eyes. "I thought you didn't like me anymore."  
  
I rub his hand with my thumb, feeling horrible. "I didn't mean that. I was just, you know, mad."  
  
He nods. "I'm sorry I'm such an asshole."  
  
I kiss his hand. "I'm used to it. It's why I love you."  
  
He opens his eyes, grinning. "Love you too."  
  
Hesitantly I lean over him and gently kiss his lips. When I pull away he's still smiling. I squeeze his hand.  
  
"You should sleep." I tell him. He shrugs but closes his eyes. I pull a chair over and sit beside his bed.  
  
+++ (a few days later)  
  
I lay next to Roger in his bed. Although my mom had made me go to school both Tuesday and Wednesday, when I told her Roger was getting out of the hospital she reluctantly agreed to call me in so I could spend the day with him. Sometimes I think I underestimate my mom.  
  
He has his head on my shoulder, his arms around my waist. His eyes are closed but I know he's not sleeping. I kiss his forehead and he opens them and looks up at me.  
  
"How're you feeling?" I ask him.  
  
He moves away from me slightly and stretches.  
  
"Better." He says and smiles, then his face turns somber and he shakes his head.  
  
"I'm such an idiot."  
  
I take his hand. "No, you're not."  
  
"You have no idea how much shit I did, Mark. I got really fucked up."  
  
I shrug. "I got really fucked up the first time we hung out, remember? So what?"  
  
"Not anymore. I'm never doing any of that shit again."  
  
I look over at the CD player next to his bed. A pack of cigarettes sits on top of it. I reach over and pick them up. He doesn't say anything. I shake the pack at him.  
  
"Those too." He agrees. I pocket them to throw away later.  
  
He moves back toward me and I put my arm around him. He rests his head against my shoulder. I smile to myself, I could stay here all day.  
  
His mom knocks on the door, opening it slowly. She smiles when she sees us. Roger opens his eye, sits up and yawns.  
  
"Hey mom."  
  
She's carrying a bowl that she sets on the floor next to the bed when she kneels beside it. She kisses Roger on the cheek.  
  
"How are you?"  
  
He grins at her. "Better." He looks at the floor. "What'd you bring me?"  
  
"Chicken soup." She says.  
  
"Aw, you haven't made me soup since I was, like, five." He laughs.  
  
"You never get sick." She tells him. She lifts the spoon out of the bowl and holds it up to him.  
  
"One for me and I'll leave you alone again."  
  
He rolls his eyes good naturedly, but accepts the spoon in his mouth.  
  
"Homemade? You spoil me, mom." He says, grinning.  
  
She winks at him and messes his hair, handing me the bowl before kissing him again and walking out. I hold the bowl over to him but he gives me a pitiful, pouting look.  
  
"Marky, I'm sick. . ."  
  
"By your own doing, and you are perfectly capable of feeding yourself."  
  
"But Marky. . ."  
  
I roll my eyes. "Oh fine. Don't call me Marky."  
  
He grins at me and winks. I hold up a spoonful for him. He doesn't move toward it.  
  
"Oh now you're just plain lazy."  
  
He opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue.  
  
"Don't be weird, that's just gross." I say, making a face.  
  
"But Marky," He says, completely disregarding my former request. "You never complain about my tongue when it's anywhere else."  
  
I feel myself blushing and shake my head at him. He laughs loudly and I reach over him and set the bowl down.  
  
"Fine, feed yourself."  
  
He wraps his arms around me and pulls my body against his. He presses his lips to mine.  
  
When he pulls away I glare at him.  
  
"I thought you were 'sick'."  
  
He laughs softly and kisses me again.  
  
+++  
  
Notes Continued: Oh sniff. Thanks for reading/reviewing! 


	37. No Day But Today

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes: Happy Bunny Day! (If you celebrate that, I don't so I don't know why I bothered.) The first part of this is during the very end of 'La Vie Boheme', then it jumps around a bit. There will probably only be one or two more RENT chapters. Enjoy! And as usual, thanks for reading/reviewing!  
  
Chapter 37 -No Day But Today-  
  
+Roger's POV+  
  
I kiss her gently on the lips.  
  
With Mark still sore over Maureen's betrayal, Collins wrapped up in Angel, and Maureen's hefty mood swings, not to mention her new girlfriend, Mimi only wants me.  
  
And I think I like that.  
  
She's dying too. She's going through what I did. She understands in a way Mark never could. But how does she manage to live through this all? How can she dance around the room and flirt and laugh knowing she's dying? How can she not spend hours each day pondering how best to spend her final years? Her quest is to be known, mine to be remembered. I'm living in the future.  
  
No day but today, after all.  
  
She reminds me of how I was, and maybe, if I'm with her, she can help me change.  
  
How strange. I'd forgotten how to live, how to love. I'd forgotten how to smile.  
  
I watch her face, her little mouth spreading into the sweetest smile I've ever seen, better than April's. Mark never smiled enough. Sometimes I felt he was smiling only for me, and I didn't like that. I wanted him to be happy without me, I still do. I just want him to be happy.  
  
And the more I think about it now, the more I know he's going to have to be able to live without me, because nothing I have is guaranteed anymore.  
  
Mark hands me our coats. For a moment my hand touches his, our eyes meet. He's hurt, I know. Then, he gives me a small smile. It's small, and his eyes are sad, and it's a terrific effort for him, but it means he accepts it. He wants the same for me I want for him. I feel Mimi's hand in mine and look away from Mark and see her smile, her eyes and forget Mark. She pulls on my hand and I hand her her coat and follow her outside.  
  
I don't look back.  
  
+++  
  
It's still snowing, and we're both covered in it. I walk with Mimi's hand in mine, listening to her talk. She has a nice voice. Everything about her is lovely. Her voice, her eyes, her smile. The seductive sway of her little hips beneath her coat, the snow in her hair, on her shoulder, her eyelashes. I stop her and she looks up at me.  
  
That toughness, that ferocity is a cover. Her eyes are gentle, calm. Her grip on my hand is soft, a comfort. She has me now, she knows it. Her seduction games are over, we can just be together.  
  
I lean over and kiss her again. She lays her other hand on the side of my face, her hand warm on my cold skin. She smiles at me and giggles when I pull away and I gather her to me, holding her little body against mine. She lays her head against my chest and I rest my chin on her curls. The snow is in my eyes, I can hardly see, but it doesn't matter. I just hold her and breathe.  
  
Live.  
  
+++  
  
I wasn't ready for Mimi and I should have known it. In the wonderful times I had forgotten smack, how she used it. Often, carelessly. Her lifestyle is wild, her nights long. I wasn't prepared for it, and now I don't think I want it. That sort of thing is past for me. Nights I want to spend with her alone, she'll leave me for a club. I won't deny the effect she's had on me, but the sense of solitude I'm often left with is not what I had in mind when I first kissed her.  
  
I never see her when she's high, but I'll see the mood swings after it. I know the girl that screams at me to leave her alone and get out of her business is not the one I followed out of The Life on Christmas Eve, that I had hoped would jumpstart my new life. I'm so in love with her it hurts, but nights I'm sitting alone in her apartment waiting for her to come home at 3 or sometimes 4 am, I hate myself for leaving Mark and putting both of us through this. He's basically alone in the loft now. I haven't seen him in over a week. It would be longer except that brief hello on the stairs before a giggling Mimi shoved me into our apartment.  
  
I can't handle finding little bags of heroin next to her bed or on the table. I couldn't handle happening upon a spare needle when I opened the wrong drawer yesterday. What it does to me still frightens me, and I hate that she uses it. She's sicker than I am, she has less time. But no day but today and she plows onwards. Stop today so you can live tomorrow, Mimi. Enjoy today, Roger, it's all you have.  
  
I want to talk to Mark, but I've forgotten how. Mimi has become my world, my life. My dependency on her and her lack of concern for her own well being killing me. I ran out of AZT weeks ago, but have no money to replace it. Mimi only takes hers if she feels like it. Most of the time when her beeper goes off she ignores it. I think about asking Mark for help to buy more, but he can't afford it either and I'm not his problem.  
  
I'm almost more withdrawn than I was before I met Mimi. When she's not here I waste time with my guitar, waiting for the moment she comes back, hoping it's a good day and I won't get the bad end of a mood swing.  
  
There's good, though. With her, there's good. In the simplest sense that she understands. Mark will never know, hopefully, what we know. That tomorrow's events could start our descent. Of course that's true for anyone, but knowing it, having to accept it like we do, that's not. Mark doesn't know, he doesn't understand. He's realized that I'm sick, that I'm not going to be around when he's older, but he hasn't accepted it. Mimi won't let me waste my life. When I'm with her I have to be 'living'. Not that I blame him, but that was Mark's only mistake. He asked me if I wanted to leave the loft, he didn't tell me to. If Mimi wants me to take her out, I take her out. If I say no we end up going out anyway. Mimi gets angry with me when she finds me sitting up for her at 4 am. You've been here all night? Waiting for you. Stop waiting, live a little.  
  
I'm not her world, why should she be mine?  
  
+++ (Spring)  
  
I can't control my jealousy.  
  
I hate cheating. I've never cheated on anyone. It's quite possibly the only moral I've upheld entirely throughout my life. It's not even necessarily that Mimi cheats on me. I don't know if she does or not. What Mimi likes is to know she can. She'll flirt with someone until she knows she has them, then leave or find some excuse to get away. It's the chase she really wants, not the action. I hate it though. It doesn't fit with her mantra. Why go after what you don't have? Appreciate what you do. But no day but today and she goes out more often now.  
  
And Benny.  
  
I've never liked him, but of course he's never liked me. I don't want his old girlfriend, and I hate that I know they were once together. He uses her to try to hurt me. That crap on New Years was made up, I know now it probably never happened and knowing he tried to sabotage her to get at me makes me angry. Once, while we were talking, she asked me about my last lover. I decided not to tell her about Mark, and instead told her about April, the girl I had told her she reminded me of. I was brief, blunt. I didn't really want to think about it. But then Mimi started talking about this great guy she was with for a while a few months ago. I asked her his name and when she told me it was Benny I was furious at her and I can't exactly remember why. I recall asking that if she liked Benny so much more why wasn't she with him now? I recall being a real asshole about the whole thing, but then again, I've never liked Benny.  
  
The only time I'm ever really angry with her is when she brings up Benny or if I catch her in one of her little seduction games. I don't want to lose her, but sometimes I think I might be pushing her further away every time I yell at her for this stuff. My mom once told me not to worry about stupid things in a relationship, or you'll never get far. I don't know where she gets off, giving me relationship advice, but I've always tried to follow it. I fail often, like in everything I do, but I've always remembered it. I try to write off Mimi's flirtatiousness as a quirk, just another characteristic personality flaw, but it's hard. I can't control the way watching her touch another guy's arm in the same way she'll lay her little fingers on mine makes me feel.  
  
Angry.  
  
+++  
  
Notes Continued: Ok I sort of lied, really not much happened. Just more insight on their relationship. Maybe next R-POV? Hope you enjoyed anyway, thanks for reading/reviewing! (Don't worry M/R fanatics, adult M/R will be happily boinking again before you know it.) 


	38. Your Song

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes: Thanks for your patience for the Roger/Mimi chapters. I set out to write a Roger/Mark story, I never really intended it to go on this long and I can't just skip over RENT. Mostly because it doesn't make sense. Roger can't just be in love with Mark and start fucking Mimi, it doesn't work that way. Not in my little RENT world anyway. Only a couple more, until then there's plenty of interaction in the little 'uns section to keep you busy. :P  
  
Lots of dialogue in this chapter, so it's sadly not as long as it looks. Sorry.  
  
Oh and there is little bit of Marky being OOC, very not RENT. But remember he's not his little boho self quite yet. Roger hasn't fully corrupted him yet. ;)  
  
Chapter 38 -Your Song-  
  
+Mark's POV+  
  
When our schedules change second semester I'm in a few classes with Roger for the first time and I'm shocked to find he does next to nothing in any of them. Our math teacher knows not to bother asking him for his homework, our physics teacher sighed loudly before she called his name for role the first day, and all of the gym teachers despise him. For someone in such great shape, I would think he'd enjoy gym or at least attempt to participate. Most days he refuses to dress, if he does he'll wander around the gyms and the weight room, talking to random people or flirting with me if he thinks no one's looking and sometimes if they are. He knows it makes me angry when he does, so he'll make it more often and obvious if he's in the mood to irritate me.  
  
I found out from Maureen no less, who's a complete groupie for his band and who's also gotten really 'close' with the drummer, that Roger's last school expelled him and that's why he came here. I had never really noticed it before, but this school isn't in his district, he actually doesn't live in Scarsdale.  
  
So he's a slacker. It makes me angry because he's smarter than that. Most of his classes are junior level, at the highest. He's the only senior in some of them. Maureen told me he's in her American History class and that the teacher never hesitates to make fun of him for it. He doesn't help the situation by any means, but if Maureen feels bad for him, like she says she often does, it must be bad. I hate the teacher, and I don't even know who it is.  
  
I keep trying to talk to him about his situation. I could help him, or find him a tutor for the classes I'm not taking, but he always manages to change the subject somehow.  
  
The bell rings and my study hall is over. I pick up my backpack, shove my hands in my pockets and start walking. If Roger doesn't find me first, I might just walk home.  
  
"Mark!"  
  
Fuck.  
  
Reluctantly I stop and wait for him to catch up. I'm really not in the mood for his presence today, not after the shit he pulled in gym class. While playing a truly disastrous game of volleyball, Roger came up behind me and wrapped his arm around my waist and kissed me on the neck. I don't really think anyone saw it for what it actually was, or at least no one said anything, but I was, am, really angry at him for it. When he's at my side I start walking again.  
  
"Hey, my car's this way. You want a ride, don't you?" He asks me.  
  
I shrug.  
  
He sighs. "Look I'm sorry for what I did during gym, ok? I didn't know it would piss you off like that."  
  
"How could you not know? You know I don't like that sort of thing in public! This is high school, Roger! You can't do shit like that here!"  
  
He gives me a very disapproving look. "Why not?"  
  
I ignore his question and walk faster. He groans.  
  
"I hate it when you do this! When you're mad at me, talk to me! Don't just walk away!"  
  
I turn around and he runs into me. He backs up a step or two.  
  
"Why are you failing all of your classes? Why don't you bother to try? Is it true you got expelled from your last school?"  
  
He gives me a hurt look. "I'm not failing all of them."  
  
When I only stare he rolls his eyes. "I'm passing study hall!"  
  
I shake my head. "That's not even funny. That's not a class. I mean, wow! I'm passing lunch!"  
  
"Alright, alright. What do you want from me?"  
  
"I want you to stop pretending school doesn't matter."  
  
He laughs. "But it doesn't. I'm gonna be a rock singer, I don't need math."  
  
"What if you're not, Rog? You need something to. . ."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I said, what if you're. . ."  
  
He gives me a cold look. "I will."  
  
"Of course you will," I tell him in a patronizing voice. "But if you don't. . ."  
  
"No, you don't understand, Mark." He narrows his eyes. "I will. I don't need you to tell me I'm not good enough." He starts to walk away but turns around once more. "What do you know, anyway? Huh? Never mind. It doesn't matter." He shakes his head and I watch him until I can't see him anymore in the parking lot.  
  
It's good that he has that much confidence, but he has to be realistic. It's hard to make it.  
  
+++ (later that night)  
  
The phone rings. I ignore it. My mom knocks on my door.  
  
"I'm busy!" I yell through it.  
  
She comes in anyway and holds out the phone to me. Reluctantly I set down my camera and take it.  
  
"It's Roger." She tells me.  
  
Damn him for calling. If my father had been home and answered the phone I would have never heard the end of it.  
  
When my mom leaves I hold the phone up to my ear.  
  
"What?" I ask, harshly. Significantly more callous than I meant it to be.  
  
I can almost hear his shock at my tone on the other end. He swallows nervously.  
  
"Look, uh, Mark I'm sorry. Really. I don't know why I got so mad. Really. Uh. . ." He stops, not knowing what else to say.  
  
Unwillingly I sigh. "It's alright. It's really not my. . ."  
  
"No, you're right, Mark. I shouldn't blow off school like I do, I just, well, I don't think I know how to try." He says in a small voice.  
  
"I can help you." I tell him.  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yeah, at least in math and science, I know those pretty well. Maybe history too. And what I don't know Maureen does, she's always looking up obscure shit to relate to her own crazy ideas of how society should work." I say.  
  
He laughs softly. "Will you come over?" He asks me.  
  
"Now?"  
  
"Yeah. I mean, I can pick you up, but will you?"  
  
"Yeah. My dad's not home so. . . Jesus!"  
  
"What?" He asks, alarmed.  
  
"I never told you! I completely forgot, you were in the hospital and all that. I told my mom, my mom knows that we're. . ."  
  
"Seriously? You did?" I don't know if he believes me or not.  
  
"Yeah, my dad thinks I'm dating Maureen, but I told my mom the truth."  
  
"And. . ."  
  
"She doesn't really care. She said it wasn't what she would have wanted for me, but that it was ok."  
  
"One of those, 'I just want you to be happy' deals?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Well, I mean, that's great, Mark. I didn't really think you'd. . . cool."  
  
I smile. "When are you coming?"  
  
"Now?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
We hang up a minute later and I rush downstairs to tell my mom I'm leaving. She just nods pensively, she's watching a soap opera she taped during the day. She looks up just long enough to take the phone from me. I roll my eyes and rush back upstairs to throw some extra things in my backpack. While I'm packing someone knocks on my door.  
  
"Who were you talking to, Marky?"  
  
I groan. "Go away, Cindy."  
  
She leans against my now closed door and watches me.  
  
"Going somewhere?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Does Daddy know?"  
  
"I hate you."  
  
She grins. "I'm not gonna tell him. On purpose. But your helping to prevent mistakes could be highly profitable."  
  
"I don't have any money." I grin. "But I promise I won't tell mom or dad about that college senior and his three friends you had over last weekend."  
  
"Like they'd believe you." She scoffs, but I can tell she's nervous. It's true there were far more girls than guys at the party Cindy wasn't supposed to have in our house last weekend when our parents went to stay with some friends over the weekend, but Cindy isn't allowed to have 'boys' over at all.  
  
"Fine. Have fun with your boyfriend." She says coldly.  
  
I smile. "I will."  
  
I hear the doorbell ring and give her an obnoxious pat on the shoulder before I hurry down the stairs to beat my mom to the door.  
  
+++  
  
In Roger's room we sit on his bed next to each other. He's been trying to explain the idea of 'create, not sell' for the past hour.  
  
"It's not about how other people perceive what you've done, it's that you did it." He says, for the third time.  
  
"But then why bother?"  
  
He groans good-naturedly. "Some people just have a drive to create." He shrugs.  
  
I lay my head against his shoulder and he puts his arm around me. Suddenly he stands up and I almost fall over.  
  
"Hey. . ."  
  
"I almost forgot! I totally wrote you a song!" He stops and shrugs. "Well, Elton John and Bernie Taupin did, I just figured out the chords by listening to it for an entire day."  
  
I stare at him as he grabs his acoustic and strums it happily. He tunes it quickly. I raise my eyebrows at him when he looks up.  
  
"Ok? Really, it's cool. You'll like it."  
  
I shrug and watch him as he positions his hands on the guitar and starts out the song.  
  
'It's a little bit funny this feeling inside  
  
I'm not one of those who can easily hide  
  
I don't have much money but boy if I did  
  
I'd buy a big house where we both could live  
  
If I was a sculptor, but then again, no  
  
Or a man who makes potions in a traveling show  
  
I know it's not much but it's the best I can do  
  
My gift is my song and this one's for you'  
  
He closes his eyes, I can tell he's blushing and his voice quakes slightly. Any words I had are taken from me as I watch him speechless.  
  
'And you can tell everybody this is your song  
  
It may be quite simple but now that it's done  
  
I hope you don't mind  
  
I hope you don't mind that I put down in words  
  
How wonderful life is while you're in the world  
  
I sat on the roof and kicked off the moss  
  
Well a few of the verses well they've got me quite cross  
  
But the sun's been quite kind while I wrote this song  
  
It's for people like you that keep it turned on  
  
So excuse me forgetting but these things I do  
  
You see I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue  
  
Anyway the thing is what I really mean  
  
Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen'  
  
He looks up at me, his eyes locking onto mine. This coming from punk rocker Roger who sings exclusively with a loud heavy metal band every few weekends? It's the sound he had the first time I saw him play his guitar, his real voice, his real soul. He grins shyly in a break in the lyrics then looks down at his fingers a moment later to finish it.  
  
'And you can tell everybody this is your song  
  
It may be quite simple but now that it's done  
  
I hope you don't mind  
  
I hope you don't mind that I put down in words  
  
How wonderful life is while you're in the world'  
  
He takes his time looking up at me, I know he's nervous now about what I'm going to think. When his eyes connect with mine I smile widely at him and he relaxes.  
  
"You like it?"  
  
"I love you."  
  
He grins. "I know."  
  
I slide off of his bed and sit next to him on the floor. He turns his head and kisses me quickly on the cheek. I nudge him sharply in the side and when he looks back over I gently pull his face to mine and kiss him deeply. He sets his guitar down and turns so he can wrap his arms around me. I lean against him, absorbed in him, the love song he stole from Elton John still on my mind.  
  
+++  
  
Far later that night a sleeping Roger has wrapped himself around my body and I lay awake, my fingers in his hair.  
  
'How wonderful life is while you're in the world. . .'  
  
+++  
  
Notes Continued: Dammit if this isn't the best song ever written. Of course it's copyright to Elton John and Bernie Taupin, not me or Roger sadly. Too bad, cause 'Your Eyes' sort of sucks. I bet he'd have written a better song if he'd written one about Mark's eyes instead. Yeah, you heard me. Mark's Eyes!! Mmmm. . . tangent. Anyway, sorry for this chapter, but this song is God and I've been dying to use it in fanfiction since I started writing it. And the idea of Roger singing it to Mark makes me happy.  
  
Ok, 'Your Eyes' doesn't suck, but it's easily the worst song in the musical. Depending on the Roger it's good though. Original is the best, let Adam Pascal sing it eternally. Then again, he could sing the hokey pokey and I'd swoon so I'll just be quiet before my notes start getting longer than my chapters. Thanks for reading/reviewing, you guys rule. :P 


	39. There's Me, There's Mimi

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes: Since I'm being 'poked' for chapters. . . raises an eyebrow at staticrader. . . I suppose I can post these today instead of tomorrow like I had planned. I suppose anyhow. ;) j/k of course. You guys make my year, seriously. I got like, what? 4 or 5 reviews in one day? Sweet sassy molassy. Every time I turned my computer on yesterday I had a new review, so thankies for that. God these RENT chapters are hard to write. I'll be glad when I can resume boinkage as well, if only so the writing flows a wee bit easier. I've gotten to the point where I write a complete HS M/R chapter and force myself through one of these so I can post it sometime before the millennium ends. Ha. Well, thanks again guys, see you soon with more chapters!  
  
Ok, disregarding actual RENT plot, cause I'm in the mood to argue, Mimi choked on a tofu dog at The Life and now no longer exists. J/k. Actually, just assume that Roger got the idea for 'Your Eyes' on the way back home, not that it was the reason he returned. Probably a wee bit different than is actually portrayed in the musical, but dammit he should be writing about Mark's eyes anyway.  
  
Chapter 39 -There's Me, There's Mimi-  
  
+Roger's POV+  
  
There's me, there's Mimi.  
  
Why did I say those things? I'm such an asshole. I didn't mean any of it. I called Mark a failure. For what? For hiding in his work? What else does he have? Maureen had Joanne, Collins had Angel, I had Mimi. . .  
  
I think of Mark trying to hold us back from fighting, Collins finally breaking it up, making me feel more guilty than I have in years, maybe ever.  
  
Please, for my sake.  
  
I can't believe you're going.  
  
I had been speechless at that. Collins's sad, hurt eyes focusing only on me. My fault, that pain. I shove my hands in my pockets and keep walking. Why do I do this? Is it even possible for me to not hurt someone I care about?  
  
And then, Mark. . .  
  
There's me, there's Mimi.  
  
I've really messed everything up. Mark thinks I'm happy, so he's happy for me, but he has no idea. I love Mimi because she's in love with me. But Mimi doesn't really understand love. That's what I yelled at her today.  
  
You'll never share real love until you love yourself. I should know.  
  
It's why I can't give myself completely to anyone now. Why I love Mark but refuse to be with him. Why I love Mimi greatly and yet know what we have is hardly a relationship. I hate myself, I hate who I've become. I remember what I was like in high school, how in love I was with Mark and know that was real. It can't be like that anymore, because I'm too wrapped up in despising myself for what I do to others to try to fix it.  
  
I approach the car and stand next to it for a minute. Can I actually do this? Leave them? Leave Mark? I told him I wouldn't leave him again. I'm doing just that. I'm practically going across the fucking country. Hesitantly I open the door and sit down in the driver's seat. Anything I have is in the backseat, minus the one thing I've dragged with me through it all.  
  
My Fender.  
  
I feel almost empty without it, the same way I felt when I lost it in that alleyway. Am I actually leaving without my guitar? Am I actually leaving?  
  
I turn the key and the engine reluctantly starts. I start to pull away and see someone running toward me in the rearview mirror. I see the brown curls first, her arms waving frantically as she yells for me to stop. I re-park the car and take the key out. She's standing on the sidewalk waiting for me, so I get out of the car and go to her.  
  
"What do you want, Maureen?"  
  
She bites on her nail and looks at the ground.  
  
"Why are you leaving?" She asks me in a quiet voice.  
  
I sigh and lean against the car. "I can't deal with all of this!"  
  
"All of what?" She looks up slightly.  
  
"Mimi! Every night I wait up for her, wondering where she is, if she's ok, who she's with! I can't keep doing this, Maureen! And the whole thing with Benny. . ."  
  
"He still loves you, you know." She interrupts.  
  
I glare at her. "How do you know?"  
  
She shrugs. "He told me."  
  
"You've actually made time in your busy 'I'm a lesbian and enjoying rubbing it in my ex-boyfriend's face' schedule to really talk to Mark?"  
  
She narrows her eyes. "I do not."  
  
"You do too." I sigh. "It doesn't matter. I'm leaving. I've gotta go." I turn to leave and she grabs my arm.  
  
"No!"  
  
I look back at her in shock and she lets go immediately and looks embarrassed. "I mean, you can't leave him, Roger! It'll kill him!"  
  
"He'll live." I tell her coldly.  
  
She glares at me. "You're such a bastard. You really only care about yourself, don't you?"  
  
I sigh. "I need a break. I need to think. I need. . ."  
  
"A lobotomy!" She smacks me on the side of the head. "What the fuck is wrong with you? All you do is bitch about Mimi and how she cheats on you! Why don't you do something about it? Like, break up with her!"  
  
"Because I love her!" I yell back and she almost cringes. "I can't just stop loving her because that's the easy thing to do!"  
  
"She's not going to change, Roger. And she's still shooting up and. . ." I see that glance down at my arms. I rub them self-consciously, glowering at her.  
  
"I'm not going to start again, Maureen."  
  
"It's not good for you to be around it! And to be around someone that enjoys it as much as she does!"  
  
"Why do you care what's good for me?"  
  
"I don't!" She screams, and I see her eyes welling up.  
  
"Go back to your girlfriend, leave me alone!"  
  
She sniffs angrily. "Don't talk about Joanne!"  
  
"Don't talk about Mimi!"  
  
We glare angrily at each other for a moment until Maureen lets out a sob, rushes forward and throws her arms around me. I stumble backwards from the force and stare down at her in shock. She lets go almost as quickly as she grabbed me and steps away.  
  
"Be careful, Roger, really. Please come back soon. Mark needs you."  
  
I can only watch her leave, still angry with her, but shocked as well. My hand shaking, I reach into my pocket and pull out the car key. I let it sit in the palm of my hand for a moment, then walk back to the car and open the door. This time when the engine starts there's no one around to convince me to stay.  
  
+++  
  
I stop in a convenience store somewhere in Pennsylvania and buy a postcard to send to my mom. I haven't talked to her in ages. The last time I called was to leave a message telling her where I was a week or so after I officially moved into the loft. It had probably been over a year before then. Another reason for me to feel like a complete jackass. I borrow a pen from the clerk, scrawl something about moving to Santa Fe on the back, and that I'd call when I got there and smack the stamp on it as well. I drop it in the first mailbox I see. I'm totally keeping in touch.  
  
I'm such an asshole.  
  
She doesn't even know I have HIV, I never told her. I can't. I wouldn't know how to tell her how badly I fucked up. I don't want her to know that. I suppose I'll just have Mark send her a postcard when I die.  
  
Assuming I still know him.  
  
I already feel empty. This is worse than the no Fender feeling. This is hundreds of times worse. I didn't hurt the Fender by leaving, but I know I hurt Mark. I snort angrily. I bet Mimi hardly noticed. She can just go back to fucking Benny. No one to hide it from now.  
  
I sigh. I don't mean half of the horrible things I think about her. I think of her smile, the slight curving of her lips into a subtle smirk. Her little hands that would grasp mine or rub my shoulders, touch my face. I used to kiss her fingers, hold those tiny hands and rub them gently with my own. Her soft body, so much smaller than my own, that fit perfectly in my arms at night or anytime. Her eyes. Gentle, cruel, but always full of life. I do love her, more than I care to admit.  
  
There's me, there's Mimi.  
  
Who are you to tell me what I know, what to do.  
  
A friend!  
  
What am I doing? I can't leave! I have to go back! What do I have in Santa Fe anyway?  
  
. . . Great restaurants out west.  
  
How could you let her go?  
  
How did I let him go?  
  
Love's not a three-way street.  
  
I seem to be playing it that way. How can I get angry with Mimi when the whole time I'm with her I'm pining over Mark and why I left him? My heart's not in the relationship the same way hers is. I need her, I need someone. Anyone that isn't Mark. She wants me, she likes me. She loves me. You'll never share real love, until you love yourself. I should know.  
  
Her eyes. Those deep, beautiful brown eyes.  
  
The hurt in Mark's eyes.  
  
From facing your failure, facing your loneliness, facing the fact you live. . .  
  
I pull the car over and turn it off. Angrily I slam my fist down on the steering wheel. What am I doing? I have to go back!  
  
I've quit everything else in my life, I'm not backing out of this. I start the car again and keep driving.  
  
+++ (December 10th)  
  
I shiver and pull the blanket I stole from a motel closer around me. No money, no food, nowhere to sleep but my fucking car that doesn't fucking work.  
  
I left New York for this?  
  
Angrily I let my head fall back against the window and close my eyes. I'm going to fucking freeze in fucking Chicago.  
  
The car broke down for the first time on a highway just outside of the city. Someone jumped it for me and it lasted long enough to get me in the city and in a parking lot of some 24-hour grocery store. There it stopped and refused to start again. I've been lucky, it hasn't been towed yet, but anytime I leave it I risk it. I shiver again. Fucking winter. I'm really hungry too. I look out the window and search for anyone on the street. At this point I'm really not above begging. Unfortunately I don't really look all that homeless. Most homeless people around here aren't young guys wearing leather jackets. I groan and realize I'm not staying any warmer inside here than out there so I throw the blanket back in the backseat and get out of the car. Laughing to myself I lock it. Don't want anything to happen to home, sweet, home while I'm gone.  
  
I start walking, then realize that that store for the lot I'm parked in probably has heat. I eagerly walk toward it and sigh deeply when I step inside. Now what can I do to waste time in here for a few hours?  
  
I walk around the store idly, my hands shoved in my pockets. I check the clock near the registers, it's only about 5 o'clock. I groan and walk into the magazine isle, looking through a Rolling Stone that I replace after a minute in disgust. Discouraged and bored I head toward the door after only a few more minutes. Outside the door an old woman is rearranging money in her purse. She closes it and starts walking and a green bill floats down behind her.  
  
A fifty.  
  
Fuck.  
  
I cannot steal from an old woman.  
  
I'm hungry. And I could get a bus ticket home. I can do this. I walk toward it slowly and kneel down to pick it up. I hold it for a moment, dreaming about food and home then groan and stand up.  
  
"Hey lady! Hey!" She doesn't turn around so I jog a few paces and catch up to her. She turns toward me, startled. I hold up the bill quickly.  
  
"You dropped this." I say, reluctantly holding it out to her. Fucking conscience.  
  
She stares at me and slowly takes it from my hand.  
  
"Oh. Well, thank you, young man." She smiles nervously at me. I know I must look like hell. I'm dirty, I haven't shaved in over a week since I finally gave up on the one razor I had with me, my clothes are wrinkled and stained, my pants torn in a few places, they haven't been washed in quite a while. Add all that to my usual appearance. I force a pained smile back and as I do my stomach growls. Loud. She hears it and looks down. I look down. I look up. She looks up. She smiles again, more genuine and holds the bill out to me.  
  
"Why don't you just keep it? I'm fine. You buy yourself something to eat, hun."  
  
I try to protest but she holds up a hand. She smiles again and continues walking. I watch her leave, speechless and amazed. I know she'll probably spend the rest of the year telling all her friends at church the nice thing she did for the homeless punk kid, but I don't care. What a fucking saint. Quickly I shove the fifty in my pocket and start walking. There's a bus station around here, I know it. I'm going home.  
  
+++  
  
Hesitantly I knock on the door of the loft. When no one answers I try the knob.  
  
"Hey, Mark?" I call softly, opening the door slightly. I don't see him, but I hear him. I slip through the small opening and slowly close the door behind me. I walk into the room, stopping outside of Mark's door. I gently knock on it and hear a break in his sobs.  
  
"Who is it?" He asks.  
  
I put my hand on the knob. Cautiously I enter the room. Mark stands up when he sees me, his mouth falling open. Awkwardly I raise a hand and give him a half-hearted wave.  
  
"Hey." I say quietly.  
  
"Roger? You're back?" He asks, bewildered.  
  
I nod and look at the floor. "Look, I'm sorry that. . ."  
  
I don't get any more words out before he runs to me and throws his arms around my neck. I stumble backwards but manage to catch my balance before we fall. Carefully, I return his embrace.  
  
"God, Rog! I was so worried about you!" He pulls away. "Are you ok? You didn't start shooting up again, did you? You're clean? Did you have any AZT? Have you taken anything?" He falls against me again. "Are you ok?"  
  
"Yeah, Mark, I'm fine. I. . ."  
  
He pushes me away, angrily. "Fuck you! Why bother coming back? So you can just leave me again?" He crosses his arms and sits on his bed. I sigh and sit down beside him.  
  
"Ok, I deserve that. Look, I'm sorry. It wasn't you, really. It's Mimi, I. . ."  
  
He snorts. "Yeah, Mimi." He glares at me. "It's always Mimi! I'm not anything to you anymore, am I?"  
  
"Mark. . ."  
  
He rolls his eyes. "You're such a bastard."  
  
Taking a huge chance I attempt to grin at him and nudge him in the side. "But that's why you love me."  
  
He gives me a long look, then his cheek twitches slightly. He gives me a small smile and I wrap my arms around him.  
  
"I'm sorry, Marky, really."  
  
I pull away and grin at him. "Will you come with me to get my guitar back? I've got about a fraction of the money for it, I'll need help persuading them to give it back."  
  
He smiles sadly. "Sure."  
  
I stand up and he stands with me. I throw an arm around his shoulders and pull him against me.  
  
"I've got the greatest idea for a song." I tell him.  
  
+++  
  
Notes Continued: Definitely only one more chapter that actually takes place during RENT, maybe two with Mimi. Almost children, almost. And yes, Maureen and Roger have a very strange friendly/hate relationship. I realize that. Thanks for reading/reviewing. Join me for chapter 40? 


	40. Sine, Cosine and Tangent

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes: 40 chapters? Finally, proof that I indeed have no life. This chapter is both fun and educational! Ha. Enjoy!  
  
Chapter 40 -Sine, Cosine and Tangent-  
  
+Mark's POV+  
  
He's lying on his back on the bed chewing absently on a pen in our now usual motel room. We're here almost every weekend now. Not necessarily because we can't find anywhere else to be alone, but mostly because it's fun. However this weekend's purpose isn't fun. I'm determined for Roger to pass one test in Trig.  
  
"Roger, can you at least pretend you're paying attention?"  
  
He looks over at me, offended. "I am! You're talking about Trig!"  
  
I roll my eyes, hold out the book and drop it on his stomach.  
  
"You fucker!" He wheezes, throwing it back at me. I shake my head and reopen it to the right page as he painfully sits up.  
  
"That really hurt!"  
  
"C'mon Rog, this stuff isn't that hard. Just imagine what she'll think, what anyone will think if you ace a test."  
  
"They'll think I cheated." He says, rubbing his stomach and wincing.  
  
"But you won't! You'll know this stuff!"  
  
He groans and lies down again.  
  
"Mark, I don't want to do this!" He looks longingly out the window. "Can't we go outside?" He grins. "And play?"  
  
"No! You are going to pass Monday's test, I don't care if we're up all weekend!"  
  
He sighs, defeated. "Fine. What was that thingy about signs again?"  
  
"Sine, Roger. Sine, cosine and tangent are trig functions. The other three, cosecant, secant and cotangent are like the opposites of the first three."  
  
"Which one's which?"  
  
I pull out a sheet of notebook paper and copy down the six functions, placing the opposites across from each other. I show him the paper.  
  
"Oh. Ok."  
  
I start explaining the concept of SOH-CAH-TOA.  
  
"Wait, what the fuck is that?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Sowhata?"  
  
I roll my eyes. "SOH-CAH-TOA." I cringe, knowing he'll think I'm insane. "She tells us to think of it as an Indian Chief."  
  
"Of Trig?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
He laughs. "Chief So. . . what was it?"  
  
"SOH-CAH-TOA."  
  
"Heh. Right. Chief SOH-CAH-TOA." He grins at me. "I think I can remember that. Now what does it mean?"  
  
I explain and he listens, his brow furrowed, nodding occasionally.  
  
"Can you write some of that down? Draw the triangles?"  
  
"I will." I assure him. "But I want you to know what it means first."  
  
He points at the paper. "Draw the first one, the soh thingy."  
  
"It's not a 'soh thingy'. The sides are always the same, at least for the problems in this chapter. All you have to memorize is what sides to use to find the trig function you want."  
  
I draw a triangle for him and label the sides. I write out the functions.  
  
"See? Opposite over hypotenuse will give you sine."  
  
"Do you divide them?" He asks, staring at my writing.  
  
"Yes! See? You do get it!"  
  
He grins. "Do I get a cookie?"  
  
"We don't have any cookies."  
  
"Can we go get some?"  
  
"Roger! Can you. . ."  
  
"Please? I promise I'll try really hard, but I'm hungry!"  
  
I roll my eyes. I don't want to stop now, but denying him food if he really is hungry would I suppose be cruel. So I give in.  
  
"Fine. But buy your cookies and then you're going to learn this!"  
  
He eagerly jumps off of the bed.  
  
"Oreos!" He yells, running out the door. Reluctantly, but smiling, I follow him.  
  
+++ (Tuesday)  
  
Roger lets out a yelp of surprise when he's handed back his test. Eagerly, I look over to see if our work paid off and am very pleased to see a large red A- scrawled across it. Roger catches me looking and hands it to me, grinning.  
  
"Look, Mark! An A! I've never gotten an A before!"  
  
I look through the test, the only stuff he got wrong was a complicated sort of problem I forgot to teach him how to do and a few minor things. I grin back at him.  
  
"This is great, Rog! See? I told you you could do it!"  
  
He takes it back, smiling down at his grade. I get my own A back and shove it in my math book with only a glance at the grade.  
  
After class Roger pulls me into the bathroom and after checking to make sure we're alone kisses me deeply on the lips.  
  
"I love you." He whispers, laying his hand on my cheek. I wrap my arms around his waist.  
  
"I love you too." I tell him. "I'm proud of you."  
  
He grins and kisses my forehead before checking his watch.  
  
"We have to go or we'll be late for that stupid science thing."  
  
"Physics?"  
  
He rolls his eyes and nods. "Yeah, that."  
  
I nudge him. "It's not so bad. C'mon." I take his hand and pull him with me out of the bathroom. He pulls his hand away as soon as we're in the hallway and takes a few extra large steps to catch up and match my stride.  
  
"Marky, I don't wanna go." He whines.  
  
"You are not cutting, again! Remember, you promised me you were going to try from now on."  
  
He pouts at me, but follows me into the classroom.  
  
+++  
  
Notes Continued: Chapter feels incomplete, but what I want to happen next (as of now) would make this really long. . . and it would be a really weird jump to have in the same chapter. Next chappie for that. Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading/reviewing, you guys! 


	41. Look Into And Love Completely

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes: Ok I lied. This chapter is actually post-RENT, not during RENT like I said it would be. Not that I think you're going to complain, you wonderful people. Have I mentioned your reviews light up my life? 50+ now too. Heh. Cool. It's kind of sad how excited I get when I see the bot@fanfiction.net notices in my inbox. Fucking review junkie I am. Heh. Kind of like Roger! Wow, too bad I'm not funny. Lol. Thanks you guys, you rule. :P  
  
Chapter 41 -Look Into And Love Completely-  
  
+Roger's POV+  
  
Mimi rests against me, I run my fingers through her hair absently. She tilts up her head and smiles at me and reaches for my hand, that I let her take. She squeezes it gently and closes her eyes. I kiss her forehead and let my head rest against hers. An hour ago I thought I had lost her, and my world seemed to close in upon me. Watching her hand fall to her side, her breathing slow and stop. . .  
  
It's best not to think about it.  
  
She coughs suddenly, her hand going to her mouth as her body reacts. I instantly reach out to hold her but she pushes me off. When she leans back again she looks down into her palm and tries to inconspicuously wipe it on her pants. I grab her wrist and see the slightly smeared blood droplets. It isn't much, but it's there all the same. She pulls her hand away, roughly.  
  
"Mimi, are you. . ."  
  
"I'm fine, Roger." She says harshly, standing up.  
  
I sigh deeply, standing, and try to put my arms around her again. At first she pushes me away, but then she lets me hold her. I rub her back gently. I look at her in surprise when I hear a muffled sobbing. She hesitantly looks up, her eyes wet and her lower lip trembling slightly.  
  
"Mimi. . ."  
  
"I don't want to die, Roger." She whispers weakly.  
  
"Hey," I say softly, brushing her hair out of her face. "You're fine." I try to smile for her. "You're going to be fine."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
I kiss her forehead. "For what, baby?"  
  
She sniffs and a couple fresh tears roll down her cheeks. "For everything." She shakes her head. "I'm horrible."  
  
I pull her close. "No, you're not horrible. No one's perfect, Mimi. It's ok."  
  
I feel her little hands on my back, gripping tightly to my shirt.  
  
"It's alright. It's alright." I tell her.  
  
She sniffs again and pulls away enough to wipe her eyes with one of her hands.  
  
"I never cry." She says, laughing softly.  
  
"Sometimes it's ok." I say, smiling at her.  
  
She coughs weakly into her hand. "Not for me." She gestures toward the couch. "I need to sit down."  
  
I sit down and she sits on my lap. She wraps her arms around my neck and lays her head against my chest. I hold her tightly, whispering to her occasionally, telling her she's alright, that she'll be fine.  
  
"I love you, Roger."  
  
"I know, baby, I love you too."  
  
Her arms slip from around my neck and she wraps them around her body. Her breathing is horrible, shallow and hoarse.  
  
"Hey, Mimi?"  
  
"Hm?"  
  
I sigh and kiss her hair gently.  
  
"Shouldn't you see a doctor or something? I mean. . ."  
  
She sighs, annoyed. "I'm fine, Roger. At least that's what you keep telling me." She says bitterly.  
  
"You will be, but you have to take care of yourself."  
  
She pulls away from me and shakily stands up.  
  
"I suppose you're gonna want me to give up smack and stop going out. Stop having fun altogether?"  
  
I stand up too.  
  
"Your idea of fun is seeing how many ways you can try to kill yourself in one night! Your idea of fun is leaving me here while you go out and fuck whoever you want. Your. . ."  
  
"Fuck you!" She screams and starts coughing again, her whole body shaking from the force. I forget my anger and rush toward her.  
  
"Mimi? Mimi are you. . ."  
  
She pushes me away from her with all her strength, which isn't much, especially not now, so I hardly move.  
  
"Fuck off, Roger."  
  
I throw up my hands in frustration.  
  
"What the fuck do you want from me?" I shake my head. "You know what? Never mind. Forget it!"  
  
Angrily I rush out, slamming the door to her apartment on the way out. Upstairs Mark is sitting alone on the table, holding his camera. When I come in he looks up but doesn't smile. I start pacing back and forth in front of him, too pissed to speak.  
  
"I heard you yelling, downstairs." He says softly, shaking his head. "And only an hour ago she was. . ."  
  
"I know, Mark!" I yell. He cringes and I feel horrible. I go and stand beside him.  
  
"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you. I just, well she gets me so mad." I look away, clenching a fist.  
  
"Then why bother, Rog? She gives you far more pain than love in the end."  
  
I look up at him. "I thought you thought I was happy."  
  
He smirks. "C'mon, I know you better than that. I know when you're really happy and when you just think you are, or when you're pretending to be."  
  
I climb up beside him. "I love her, I really do."  
  
"I know you do, but think about what's really good for you. Drugs, clubs, that shit is in your past. You're above it now. She's not." He lays his hand on my shoulder. "I really don't want to lose you to that again, Rog. It'd be one thing if she wanted to change, but she doesn't."  
  
Angrily I wipe away the tears that are forming. Is Mark really telling me to break up with Mimi? Am I really doubting that I should?  
  
"I can't, Mark. I can't." I rest my head in my hands. "I don't want to be alone."  
  
He's silent for a long time.  
  
"You don't have to be, you know." He says quietly.  
  
My eyes meet his. "Mark. . ."  
  
He looks away. "I mean, I hate that you do this to yourself! Instead of being concerned about what you'll do to me, think about yourself! What does Mimi do to you? You. . ."  
  
I stand up. "You don't know what you're talking about! Don't talk about her like that!"  
  
He sighs. "Roger. . ."  
  
"No! What is it with all of you? What is wrong with Mimi?"  
  
He stands up too, his fists clenched at his sides. "Other than that she cheats on you, she's still in love with Benny, she shoots up, she's never there for you. . ."  
  
I push him backwards. "Stop it!"  
  
He falls and winces when he tries to sit up. He glares up at me.  
  
"Fuck you, Roger. Forget it."  
  
He grabs hold of the table to help himself up and then starts to walk away.  
  
"Mark, wait! I'm sorry, really, I'm. . ."  
  
He looks back at me. "Just stop, Roger. Really." He sniffs and turns away quickly. I feel horrible, as usual.  
  
"Mark? No, please. . ."  
  
But he's gone, slammed the door to his room. I stare at it for a moment, then fall to my knees. Shit.  
  
What am I doing? Why do I try so hard to protect Mimi? Why did I push him? I'm such an asshole. I watch his door, praying for him to open it. The only thing I can do is to knock and hope he answers. Apologize. Hopefully he'll listen to me, though I wouldn't blame him if he doesn't. Why should he?  
  
Hesitantly I go toward his room and knock gently.  
  
"Fuck off, Roger."  
  
"Mark? Please? I'm sorry, I'm really sorry."  
  
"Just leave me alone, Roger."  
  
I put my hand on the knob. None of these doors lock. Taking a deep breath I push it open. He's sitting on the edge of his bed and he glares at me when I look in.  
  
"I said to. . ."  
  
"Wait." I come in and kneel next to him. "Please, just listen to me."  
  
He continues his cold stare, but is silent.  
  
I sigh and look at the floor.  
  
"I'm sorry, Mark. I just, you, I love Mimi, ok? When you and Maureen and anyone say shit about her. . ." I trail off, not knowing how to say what I mean. "You know?"  
  
"No, I don't Roger. You're not making any sense."  
  
"I mean, you can't just. . ."  
  
He cuts me off. "Roger, just listen to yourself." He looks down at my hands, gripping the edge of the bed. "Your hands are shaking." He gives me a hard look. "Are you on something?"  
  
I pull back, hurt. "No!"  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
I stare up into his eyes. I once thought they were the only eyes I'd ever look into and love completely. And now when I see that he's no longer angry, but concerned, I know I was right. I reach for his hands and he takes mine and slides off his bed to kneel beside me on the floor.  
  
He looks down at our hands and then back up at me. "I still love you, Roger. I want you to know that." He sighs. "But I want you to be happy. If you love Mimi, I can. . ."  
  
I kiss him suddenly, surprising both of us. He almost pulls back, but then leans into it, returning my kiss. I drop one of his hands and lay my hand on his shoulder, his goes to my cheek and soon we're in a complete embrace. When we finally break apart he looks up at me in a painful sort of hope.  
  
"Roger. . ."  
  
"I love you, Mark." I sigh and start to pull away from him. "But. . ."  
  
He pushes me away and stands up. "But? Jesus, Roger! What do you. . ."  
  
I stand. "No! I didn't mean that! I. . ."  
  
"What did you mean? Don't bother, I know! You love Mimi! Of course! How could I even. . ."  
  
I pull him to me and put my hand over his mouth. "Will you just shut up? I'm just trying to say that if this happens for us we have to take it slow. Not like last time. None of that 'we're not ready for this but fuck it, oh well' shit. I mean it, Mark."  
  
He reaches up and removes my hand. He smiles shyly. "Well, yeah. I mean, I know. Of course we. . . yeah." I feel his arms go around my waist and I grin at him, then kiss him gently. He lays his head against my chest and I hold him, my chin resting on his head, my eyes closed, desperate for this to make life better than it's been.  
  
Inwardly though, I sigh. This has to be what I want. But Mimi doesn't deserve this. What am I going to tell her? What can I possibly say? And how can I control that small part of me that still wants her, that will always want her? Her sweet little mouth, the deep eyes that can control me with a simple flicker of emotion, what do I do without them?  
  
Breathe, hold him. Don't think.  
  
+++  
  
Notes Continued: It seems almost rushed, like I'm just in a hurry to get rid of Mimi so we can have hot gay love once again. Although that sort of is what I'm trying to do, I just had hoped it wouldn't be this obvious. Oh well. Are you all going to complain? Lol. I have you deep within my slashy clutches now! J/k, of course you awesome people. Your reviews make my year, thanks so much. Hopefully I'll be able to post the next chapter tomorrow. I was gonna post it tonight with this, but I'm just too tired to finish it. Tomorrow, I'll do my best. ;) 


	42. Extra Touch Of Satisfaction

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes: AHA! I love this chapter, especially the first part because I love making them do naughty things and this is pretty naughty for our kinky little boys. Haha... mmm loveslaves.  
  
Oh and to comment on your comment, Mistress Flame, I usually agree with the perspective that she's not still on smack after the musical, but as I admitted I'm going to be a horrible writer and just hurry her off so dammit she's on smack and Roger loves Marky and wants badly to boink him once again. ;) thanks for the reviews dearie. (And thankies to all the rest of you too!)  
  
Chapter 42 -Extra Touch Of Satisfaction-  
  
+Mark's POV+ (a few days later)  
  
Since I'm especially happy with Roger, and the fact that he's attempting to pass, and particularly that he's doing it because I asked him to, when we're walking together in the city that weekend I slip my hand into his. He looks down at me in questioning surprise, we certainly aren't alone on the street, but I just smile at him and give his hand a squeeze. He grins and returns it, and I know he's happy. I'm mildly concerned something might happen, but decide to chance it for a little while, because he deserves it anyway.  
  
"Where do you want to go?" He asks me, unable to hide, though I don't think he's trying to, the extra touch of satisfaction in his voice.  
  
I shrug at him. "Why don't we just go back to the room? We've been walking most of the day, I'm sort of tired." I tell him.  
  
"By tired, do you mean 'tired'?" He asks, grinning at me and raising an eyebrow.  
  
I elbow him. "Perv." Then I grin as well. "But, maybe."  
  
His grip on my hand tightens and he picks up our walking pace. I can't help but laugh at him.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You. You act like it's been weeks."  
  
"Feels like it."  
  
I roll my eyes. "Since last night it feels like weeks?"  
  
He shrugs, looks over at me and winks. "Don't act like you don't want me."  
  
"Ew. Maybe I don't."  
  
He laughs. "Right." He kisses me on the temple while we're walking. "I love it when you play hard to get."  
  
I nudge him. "Don't do that on the street. And yeah I bet you do. You're into that kinky shit."  
  
"How would you know?"  
  
"I just do."  
  
"I'm going to tie you to the bed."  
  
"No you're not." I scoff. "You're going to pleasure me stupid and fall asleep."  
  
"Yes, by tying you to the bed."  
  
"You slut."  
  
He laughs. "You're the slut." Ignoring my pleas from a moment ago he kisses my head again. "My slut."  
  
+++  
  
"Roger what are you doing?" I sigh. I'm lying on the bed, still fully clothed, watching him pull the shoelaces out of his shoes.  
  
"I need rope."  
  
"Those are shoelaces."  
  
He shrugs. I sigh.  
  
"You're not really going to tie me up, are you?"  
  
"Yep. Ha!" He pulls the second shoelace free and holds both of them up triumphantly. He turns toward me and I stare at him and cross my arms.  
  
"No."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Freak."  
  
"Nerd." He laughs and grabs for my arms. I relent and let him put them over my head but as he's picking up the first shoelace I clear my throat.  
  
"What?"  
  
"How are you going to get my shirt off?"  
  
"Oh. Uh, I was gonna leave it on."  
  
I roll my eyes. "Another stunning display of your limitless intelligence."  
  
He smirks at me and then leans over and brushes his lips over mine. I let him kiss me, as his hands come to rest on my waist. He squeezes my sides suddenly and I squeak and pull away.  
  
"Don't do that!"  
  
Laughter. He reaches for the end of my shirt and pulls it over my head. It knocks my glasses askew and when I reach to fix them he pushes my hand away and takes them off.  
  
"Hey. . ."  
  
He puts them on and squints at me through them.  
  
"These things hurt. How do you see in them?"  
  
"I see fine in them. However, I see pretty badly without them, so give them back."  
  
I think he grins at me, but his face is blurry. He pulls them off and hands them back. "You're cute without them, too."  
  
He kisses me again, longer this time, and this time he reaches for the zipper on my pants.  
  
"I thought you were gonna tie me up." I say when he pulls away for a moment.  
  
"You didn't want me to."  
  
"You can, if you want."  
  
"You sure?"  
  
I shrug. "Why not?"  
  
He picks up one of the shoelaces again and I raise my arms over my hand. He loosely ties my wrists together and to the headboard of the bed, giving me enough extra lace so that I can lie down comfortably. At least as comfortably as possible with my arms over my head. He undoes my pants as his lips find mine and soon I'm lying beneath him in only my underwear, and another minute and that's gone too. He kisses my chest, letting his tongue drag over my skin, his teeth nipping gently at my nipples and his hands on my sides. I want to touch him, run my fingers through his hair, grab hold of his shoulders but all this wanting leads to is my struggling against the shoelaces.  
  
His lips move lower, now in that area below my navel, but still above what I'm sure is his ultimate goal. He lays his hands on my thighs, slowly sliding them up until they meet on my hips and then I feel his hands on me and I bite back a cry that escapes as a low moan anyway. A minute later his mouth is on me and now my hands itch to do something, but I'm powerless and vulnerable under him. All I can do is vocalize to him what I want and hope he does something about it.  
  
He takes his mouth away and kisses me again, holding my face in his hands. When he pulls away he starts to take off his own clothes. He takes a condom out of the pocket of his pants before he throws them onto the floor. Ripping it open and rolling it onto himself, he positions himself between my legs. I wince at first when he enters me, a moan ready in my throat that comes out a moment later low and trembling when he begins a slow, steady rhythm. He keeps one hand wrapped around me, his touch gentle, his fingers barely touching the skin most of the time. He leans over and kisses me, stopping everything for a moment while we carry on with our lips, his tongue brushing mine in a teasing manner. He pulls away soon after and watches me as I writhe beneath him while he continues.  
  
Later, he's untied me and we're lying together, entwined and exhausted. I watch his face, his brilliant green eyes staring into mine, half open and tired.  
  
"Roger?"  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"That was incredible."  
  
"Uh-huh." He agrees, yawning. He moves closer and lays his head on my shoulder and closes his eyes.  
  
"I love you." I whisper to him.  
  
He just nods and soon I hear his gentle snoring. I smile to myself and close my own eyes.  
  
+++  
  
The next morning we check out and drive back. I don't really want to go home yet, so I go with Roger to his. He pulls up in front of his house and parks the car, reaching into the backseat for our bags. He hands me mine and takes his own, opening his door and getting out. He waits for me and when I catch up to him he puts his arm around me and we walk inside together.  
  
His mom is in the kitchen making herself a sandwich. She smiles at us when we walk in, but somehow she looks more tired than usual.  
  
"Hey mom." Roger says, kissing her on the cheek when he reaches her. "What are you making?"  
  
"There's more turkey in the fridge and bread on the table if you boys want something." She says. "Roger, your father called for you."  
  
Roger, who had turned to the refrigerator, stiffens and looks back at her.  
  
"Why?" He asks, his voice callous and apprehensive.  
  
She sighs. "I think he wants to see you. It's entirely up to you, of course, but. . ."  
  
"No." He says, his tone bordering on anger. "Why is he calling? I don't want him to call, mom."  
  
"He's your father, Roger."  
  
"He's an asshole!" He yells, causing both her and I to jump slightly. She gives him a stern look.  
  
"Roger. . ."  
  
"No! I don't want to hear it! He's bad mom, and we're better off without him. If he calls again tell him to fuck off and hang up!"  
  
Before she can say anything else, Roger motions to me and storms out of the kitchen. Reluctantly I follow him, casting a worried glance back at his mom, who looks very upset at Roger's outburst.  
  
"Roger, what. . ."  
  
"Wait." He says. He closes the door of his room once we're inside. I sit down on his bed and he joins me a moment later, sighing deeply. I can tell he's still angry.  
  
"What. . ."  
  
He looks over at me and I stop talking. He's troubled, not angry. I put my arm around his shoulders and he moves closer, laying his head on my shoulder. He sighs.  
  
"Well I told you I'd tell you about my dad, eventually." He says.  
  
"Is it bad?" I ask him. Idiot, of course it is, if he's reacting this way.  
  
He nods. "He's a real dick. He cheated on my mom all the time and he used to hit her a lot. He was really mean to her. She told me he wasn't like that before, only after they got married. It got worse when he found out she was pregnant."  
  
"Abusing a pregnant woman?"  
  
He nods. "I told you, he's a dick. And when he started cheating on her, he never tried to hide it. He'd come home drunk off his ass with some skank my mom would have to ask to leave. Of course he'd get all pissed off about it."  
  
"Did he hit you?" I ask him quietly.  
  
Roger looks up at me. He sighs. "No. Not unless he was really drunk or I actually did something wrong. Then it could get bad." He points to a fading scar I had never really noticed before that began on his temple and I could tell continued under his hair. "He gave me that a few years ago for calling him a fucking bastard because he pushed my mom into a wall."  
  
"Roger. . ."  
  
"She doesn't get it. It took so long to convince her to leave him and move away. She acts like nothing he did really mattered, unless he hit me. She got really mad if he hit me but then did nothing about it." He sighs again. "He calls sometimes, wants me to see him. Wants to know if my mom will give him another chance. I don't ever want to leave, because I know she will. As soon as I'm gone she'll probably welcome him back and then I won't be around to help her. He'll probably fucking kill her and when I come back he'll be living here with some skank and. . ."  
  
"Roger, it's ok." I pull him into an embrace because his voice is cracking and I can see his eyes glistening with unfallen tears. He holds me tightly and I rub his back when he starts crying in my shoulder.  
  
"You'll be fine. She'll be fine. Don't worry so much, Rog."  
  
He sniffs and pulls away. "Can you stay here tonight? I'd really like you to be here tonight."  
  
"I'll call my mom." I tell him and he sighs and hugs me, kissing me quickly, lightly, before pulling away again.  
  
"You can do that. I feel bad, I'm gonna say something to my mom cause I shouldn't have yelled at her." He gets up off the bed and I follow him downstairs where he hands me the phone. I go in the other room but can still faintly hear Roger telling her he's sorry and her saying it's all right.  
  
I dial home and luckily my mom answers it on the second ring.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Mom?"  
  
"Mark?" She sighs. "You're not coming home tonight, are you?"  
  
"No. Roger really needs me right now. I promise I'll be home tomorrow."  
  
"Do you need anything? You have everything you need?"  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
She sighs again. "Mark, I don't know if I like you spending all your time with Roger."  
  
"I thought that. . ."  
  
"No it's not because he's a boy, it's because you spend everyday, after school, before school, weekends with him. I never see you anymore, you're still my son you know."  
  
"I know. I promise I'll. . ."  
  
"Tonight is fine, Mark, but no more this week." She says.  
  
"Fine. See you tomorrow." I tell her sadly.  
  
"Goodbye dear, I love you."  
  
"Yeah." I say, as she hangs up.  
  
As I'm replacing the phone Roger comes in.  
  
"Ok?" He asks.  
  
I nod. "Yeah. But apparently only tonight. She wants me home the rest of the week."  
  
He makes a face, but then grins, though it's not quite the usual caliber. "Guess we'll have to make it count."  
  
I blush. "Roger, your mom is. . ."  
  
He laughs at me. "You worry too much." He takes my hand and I follow him upstairs.  
  
+++  
  
I stroke his hair while he drifts in and out of a semi-conscious state.  
  
"I love you, Marky." He whispers.  
  
"Love you too, Rog." I tell him.  
  
He closes his eyes and I watch him sleep for a while before I lay down beside him and press my body against his. I close my eyes and wait for sleep to take me as well.  
  
+++  
  
Notes Continued: Pointless sex chapter no. 4 for our little boys! * high fives the god of sex* hope you've enjoyed! I was in the mood for some of that boinkage I keep promising. So even though it's in the wrong time frame, boinkage is boinkage. Thanks all! 


	43. To Say Goodbye

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes: Guess who's going to see RENT? Yeah, that's right, me. Oh yes. RENT virgin. Waves hands frantically. I'm positively wetting my pants at the idea of it. Oh and by the way, there's a guy in my school that looks like Adam Pascal. A young, very happy Adam Pascal. With brown hair. He's my high school Roger. Lol. High school Mark is just sort of a cute little nerd that lives in my head. Fun for all. Since I wrote my history paper instead of fanfiction yesterday, I decided to give you guys a second chapter today for making you wait. ;) thanks for everything!  
  
Oh yes and you'll all be happy to know this is (possibly) the last Mimi chapter. She might pop up later in the story if I feel inclined to stick her there, but her romance with Roger is over as far as I'm concerned. May the boinkage commence! Ha!  
  
Chapter 43 -To Say Goodbye-  
  
+Roger's POV+ (a few days later)  
  
There's a knock on our door. Mark and I are sitting on the table, me holding my guitar, him his camera, both of us quiet. He looks over at me and I set my guitar down and go to open it. Mimi is standing on the other side of it, nervous, her hands clasped in front of her. I throw a glance back at Mark and he shrugs. I wasn't ready for this, not yet. I didn't think Mimi would be the first to apologize, she never is. I lay my hand on her shoulder and lead her away from the door.  
  
"Let's go downstairs." I tell her.  
  
She nods and we walk down them together, my hand sliding off of her shoulder to clasp her hand. She lets us into her apartment and we sit together on the couch, still holding hands. I'm really reluctant to tell her what I have to say. I know that I do love her, and that I'm going to hurt her with it.  
  
"I love you, Roger." She says softly. "But. . ."  
  
But? She's not supposed to be the one with the 'but', that's me.  
  
I look over at her. "But what?"  
  
She bites her lip. "I'm sorry, Roger. I really am. But I'm leaving. I called my mom and she helped me find a good rehab, she's gonna help me pay for it. I'm gonna get better."  
  
"Don't be sorry for that, baby, that's good for you."  
  
"I'm sick, Roger. I'm really sick. I went to the doctor. My T-Cells suck, unless I do something I've got a couple of months, if I stop this, the heroin, and stop working, maybe a year." She says, her voice thick, but otherwise calm and even.  
  
I stare at her in shock. A year, maybe?  
  
"Mimi. . ."  
  
"I don't think I can do it if I'm here. I'm gonna live with her afterwards. But. . ." She sniffs and blinks away a few tears. "When I get sick, you know, will you come see me? I really would want to see you before. . ."  
  
"Yes. I mean, you shouldn't even talk about that. But God, I can't believe you're leaving."  
  
"I have to, Roger. I have to stop, I have to get better." She gives me a sad smile. "I'm not good for you anyway. We both know that."  
  
"When are you leaving?" I ask her.  
  
"Tomorrow, if I pack all the crap I want tonight."  
  
"Tomorrow. . ." I squeeze tightly on her hand. I wasn't ready for this, to completely give her up yet. She slides closer to me on the couch, wrapping her arms around me and laying her head on my shoulder. I sit there motionless, absorbing all of this.  
  
"Stay here with me tonight?" She asks. "Help me pack?"  
  
I nod. "Yeah, course I will." I kiss her forehead gently and pull myself out of her arms.  
  
"I'll be right back, ok?" I ask her. She nods and smiles sadly and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. I go back upstairs, Mark's waiting by the door, his eyes hopeful, but worried.  
  
"What happened?" He asks.  
  
"She's leaving." I tell him, grabbing my guitar. "To go to rehab."  
  
He watches me. "Rehab? She's going to get clean?"  
  
I nod. "Then she's going to live with her mother. She's leaving." I sigh, still not used to the idea, and look back at him. "Her doctor said she's got a year, tops."  
  
He says nothing. I put my guitar strap over my shoulder and hold it under my arm, against my side.  
  
"What are you going to do?" He asks me carefully.  
  
"I'm staying there tonight, no listen to me." He had rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "To help her pack."  
  
"Why are you bringing your guitar?"  
  
"I want to play her her song again." I tell him, shrugging.  
  
"Are you going to sleep with her?" He asks quietly.  
  
"Jesus, Mark! No! I'd just like to spend time with her! She's leaving!"  
  
He sighs. "I'm going to lose you, aren't I?"  
  
I walk over to him and take his hands in mine.  
  
"No you're not. I'm yours now, I promise this time. I'm not going to get scared and back out and I'm not going to hurt you again." I kiss his forehead gently. "Tonight. To say goodbye. That's it, I promise."  
  
He nods, though I can tell he still doesn't like the idea of me going. I kiss him again and go to the door. I stop with my hand on the knob and look back at him.  
  
"I love you." I say.  
  
He doesn't turn around. He goes into his bedroom and closes the door. Sighing, I start downstairs and let myself back into Mimi's apartment.  
  
+++  
  
We go through her stuff, packing what she wants to keep in two suitcases and a backpack, mostly clothes and makeup, and the rest we decide to donate to Salvation Army. Exhausted, we lay on her bed, finishing a bag of popcorn she'd made that we'd found in her closet.  
  
"I'm gonna miss you, Roger." She says softly.  
  
"Me too. Miss you, I mean." She laughs briefly and reaches for my hand.  
  
"I've always loved you." I tell her.  
  
"Me too. Loved you, I mean." She says, giggling. I grin at her and lean over and kiss her cheek. She turns her head and tries to kiss me but I remember my promise to Mark.  
  
"No, Mimi we shouldn't. . ."  
  
"One more time, Roger. Let me kiss you one more time."  
  
When I don't pull away she kisses me, her lips soft on mine. She keeps it innocent, sweet, almost friendly. When she pulls away she starts crying. I pull her into my arms and hold her tightly.  
  
"It's ok, baby, don't cry. You're doing this for you, so you can be better."  
  
"What about you?" She asks me, looking up, her eyes glistening.  
  
It's not the time or the place to tell her. There's no reason to. I kiss her forehead.  
  
"I'll be fine. Don't worry about me, you get better."  
  
"I meant it, Roger. Will you come see me when I'm. . ."  
  
"Yes, baby. You call me, I'll come see you. I'll sit next to you and hold your hand and tell you you're beautiful." I smile at her. "Cause you are."  
  
She sniffs. "Play me my song, Roger. Please?"  
  
I untangle myself from her and pick up my guitar. I play her her song, the one that brought her back only so she could leave me again. She smiles at me as I play and when I finish I set it down again and lay down beside her. She moves closer, pressing her body against mine and I wrap my arms around her.  
  
+++  
  
In the morning I kiss her goodbye and hug her tightly.  
  
"How are you getting there?" I ask her.  
  
"She's going to come get me. She's borrowing someone's car, a neighbor's I think."  
  
I nod. "Are you going to be ok?"  
  
She nods.  
  
"Call me if you need to. It's ok."  
  
She hugs me again.  
  
"You should go. Really. I have to call her."  
  
I kiss her forehead and hesitantly head toward her door. I look back at her for moment, then start out and up the stairs. I wonder if Mark is up yet. And if he's still upset with me.  
  
His door is closed so I knock on it.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Can I come in?"  
  
He sighs. "Yeah."  
  
I open the door and go in and sit beside him on his bed. He's still wearing the same clothes as yesterday, his hair is disheveled, and he looks exhausted.  
  
"Did you sleep at all?" I ask him.  
  
He shakes his head. "Not really."  
  
Cautiously I put my arm around him and he leans against me.  
  
"I'm sorry, Marky."  
  
He shrugs. "It's ok." He sighs. "Are we. . ."  
  
"Do you want to be?"  
  
He nods. "I really do."  
  
I kiss his forehead. "Me too."  
  
His arms go around my waist and we hold each other for a while in silence.  
  
"Hey, Mark?"  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"I think I want to go home for a while, see my mom." I had been thinking about it since I had come back from Santa Fe.  
  
"Oh." He says quietly.  
  
"I want you to come with me if I do."  
  
"Oh." He says again. "Ok."  
  
"I feel bad," I tell him. "All I ever do is send her postcards. Bad ones too."  
  
He smirks. "You're really not that great at keeping in touch."  
  
I smile. "No, not really."  
  
We're both quiet for a moment.  
  
"Do we have any money?" I ask him.  
  
He shrugs. "Maybe. Probably not much. Enough to buy food, maybe. Why?"  
  
I get up and check the jar in the kitchen where we usually pool any money we have together. There's ten singles in there. I go to my guitar case and dig deep in the pocket and come up with another $3.50, most of it in change. I go back to Mark's room.  
  
"C'mon, we're going out." I tell him.  
  
He stares at me. "Roger, we can't. . ."  
  
"We've got plenty of food for awhile and fuck the rent, c'mon, we're going out."  
  
When he still doesn't move I roll my eyes and pull him off of his bed by the hand.  
  
"Where are we going?" He asks.  
  
I shrug. "Don't know. It'll be fun though, I promise."  
  
He gives me a doubtful look but follows me down the stairs and outside.  
  
+++  
  
Notes Continued: Where do they go? Find out next chapter cause I don't know yet! Ha! Hope you've enjoyed, thanks for reading/reviewing.  
  
"But? She's not supposed to be the one with the 'but', that's me." This line provided me with much amusement while I was proofreading. And yes Roger, what a butt you have. ;) 


	44. Tomorrow, I Promise

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes: I'm glad you all enjoyed chap. 42 and all of its kinky joys, I did as well. Not really as much kink in this one, but there are some references to some future fun for them. This chapter ends with their day unfinished, but fear not, the new chappie with all that goodness is on its way. ;) So without further rambling on my part, I'll simply thank you for your reviews, they are much appreciated, and continue on with the story.  
  
Chapter 44 -Tomorrow, I Promise-  
  
+Mark's POV+  
  
I roll my eyes at him.  
  
"Roger, you know I don't want to go. Please just shut up about it."  
  
"But Marky, if we don't go to prom how are you going to lose your virginity in the backseat of your boyfriend's car afterwards?"  
  
Virginity? I think.  
  
"You're sick, you know that?"  
  
He grins at me and kisses me lightly on the cheek.  
  
"Besides," I tell him. "We can do that without going."  
  
He laughs. "Seriously?"  
  
I kiss him briefly and he makes a noise of protest when I pull away.  
  
"Not tonight, Rog. History, remember?"  
  
He pouts at me and lies down on my bed. My father away for a few days on business, my mom reluctantly agreed to let me 'study' with Roger here since I'm technically supposed to be spending more time at home. However, though Roger's attempts at school have been excellent recently, he is really smart when he tries, today he's had zero interest in anything but me. Not necessarily a bad thing, but frustrating.  
  
"Ok, listen." I open my history book and start reading. "During World War II American troops were. . ."  
  
"Boring." Roger sighs. He looks up at me grinning when I glare at him. "Let's make out."  
  
"Will you shut up? Cindy's gonna hear you."  
  
He shrugs. "So?" He pokes me in the leg. "C'mon baby, you know you want me."  
  
"Roger, stop it. Pay attention."  
  
"Marky. . ."  
  
"No. Don't call me Marky."  
  
He pokes me again.  
  
"Stop it."  
  
He grins at me. I watch him warily. That particular grin is never followed by anything good. He closes his eyes and proceeds to yell out,  
  
"Oh yes! Yeah! Oh God, yeah! Oh do that again, uh-huh. Oh. . ."  
  
I clap my hand over his mouth.  
  
"Shut up! They'll hear you!"  
  
He keeps going, though his words are now unintelligible.  
  
My door opens and Cindy looks in.  
  
"What the hell are you doing?" She asks, staring at Roger who starts laughing. I punch him in the arm but he just laughs harder.  
  
"Studying." I tell her. "Uh, Roger really likes history."  
  
She stares at us. "Gross." She says and slams the door on her way out.  
  
Roger laughs harder than ever.  
  
"I really like history?"  
  
"Fuck you." I glare at him.  
  
"That's what I've been trying to say!" He cries out, grabbing me and pulling me down beside him. I struggle at first, then give up and lay with him.  
  
"I hate you." I tell him.  
  
He kisses my cheek. "No you don't. You love me."  
  
"You're such a. . ."  
  
He pulls me on top of him, kissing me. His hands slide down my back as I finally give in and kiss him back. In the mood to tease him I run a hand down his body, touching him through his pants. He moans against my lips, his hands moving lower.  
  
"Mark, do you, oh my!"  
  
I look up in shock and Roger tilts his head back so he can see too. My mom is standing in the doorway, her hand over her mouth that's wide open in surprise.  
  
"Uh, what, mom?" I ask, quickly moving off Roger. He looks like he's going to start laughing again.  
  
"Mark can I talk to you? Out here?"  
  
I throw Roger a glare before getting up and following her out of the room. She gives me a stern look.  
  
"What were you doing?" She asks me.  
  
"We were just making out." I tell her, shifting nervously.  
  
"You told me you were going to be studying."  
  
"We were! But. . ."  
  
"But?"  
  
"We're finished. Mom that's all we were gonna do, I swear. We totally don't do that." I lie.  
  
"Mark, I think Roger should go home now."  
  
"Can I go with him?"  
  
"No!"  
  
"Can I go to Maureen's house?" I try.  
  
"Mark. . ."  
  
"Mom, please. He really needs to study."  
  
"You said you were finished."  
  
Shit.  
  
"With one subject. But, history. . ."  
  
She rolls her eyes. "Fine. Downstairs where I can see you both." She says, pointing at me. "Get your stuff and sit at the kitchen table."  
  
I nod and she goes back downstairs. I go back to my room where Roger is still laying on my bed.  
  
"Nice going, Rog. Now we have to go downstairs and work."  
  
"Me?" He asks innocently. "I wasn't the only one with my hand down someone's pants."  
  
I blush and grab my book. "Just get your stuff, ok?"  
  
He rolls his eyes and picks up his notebook.  
  
"Hey, let's gross out your sister." He says.  
  
"It's not worth it, trust me."  
  
"C'mon, I don't have any siblings to harass, share a little."  
  
"How are you going to gross her out?"  
  
He grabs my hand and pulls me out of my room.  
  
"Which door? He asks.  
  
I point at it. Before I can stop him he knocks on the door, then grabs me and pulls me into a sloppy, overly passionate kiss. Complete with plenty of inappropriate groping.  
  
"What do you, Jesus!" She slams her door as quickly as she opened it.  
  
Roger pulls away and starts laughing just as I realize that what he was doing with his hand felt rather nice. I pull him back to me, wrapping my arms around his neck and I kiss him till we're breathless.  
  
"Tomorrow, I promise." I whisper to him, before taking his hand and pulling him downstairs with me.  
  
+++  
  
All we really succeeded in last night was playing footsie under the table and writing each other rather graphic love letters on spare pieces of paper, so I try to help Roger cram on the way to school for history class.  
  
"Did you hear me?" I ask him, exasperated.  
  
"You look really hot today."  
  
I groan. "Does you sex drive have an 'off' setting?"  
  
He shakes his head and grins. "I can't help it. It, like, doubles when I'm with you."  
  
"What's it like without me?"  
  
"Unbearable." He says, leaning over to kiss my cheek. "It's only for you, though."  
  
He stops at a red light and I kiss him on the lips.  
  
"I don't want to go today." I tell him.  
  
He grins. "Really?"  
  
"Yeah. Is your mom home?"  
  
"She won't be in about an hour."  
  
"Till?"  
  
"Late. I'm not sure when."  
  
He drives past the road to take to school and keeps going.  
  
"You hungry?"  
  
I nod.  
  
A few minutes later he pulls into the parking lot of some pancake restaurant. When the hostess starts to lead us to a table Roger grabs her arm.  
  
"Hey, you got any crayons?"  
  
She gives him an odd look but nods and takes a handful and a colouring paper out.  
  
"You are so weird." I tell him as we're walking. He just grins at me.  
  
As I'm staring at the menu, Roger pokes me in the arm with a crayon.  
  
"What?"  
  
He slides a small scrap of paper at me. I roll my eyes but pick it up.  
  
-I want your hot body-  
  
I smirk at him and hold my hand out for the crayon. I send back to him:  
  
-Your arms are FABulous in that top-  
  
I pass it to him and he raises his eyebrows and rips off a new piece of paper.  
  
-Your ass is so hot in those jeans-  
  
I feign horror at his note and quickly turn it over and write back:  
  
-Am appalled by your language. Are you saying my ass is ONLY hot in THESE  
select jeans?-  
  
He laughs when he reads it.  
  
-No baby, your ass is always hot. Especially without your jeans.-  
  
He laughs again when I blush.  
  
-I wish I could say the same for you.-  
  
He pouts at me after he reads it.  
  
-Just for that you're not getting your surprise.-  
  
-Oh damn. Was it kinky?-  
  
-You know it.-  
  
"Are we ready to order here?"  
  
We look up at our waitress, a pretty girl a few years older than us.  
  
"Uh. . ." Roger attempts, staring at her blankly.  
  
"Not yet." I tell her, kicking him under the table. He kicks back and sticks his tongue out at me.  
  
"I'll come back." She says, smiling, but at the same time giving us a strange look.  
  
I tear off a piece of the paper and write:  
  
-How can I earn it back?-  
  
When he reads it he smirks at me, then turns it over and writes on the back.  
  
-Come sit on this side with me.-  
  
"That's it?" I ask him  
  
He winks at me. "Don't count on it."  
  
Hesitantly I get up and join him on the opposite side of the table. Ignoring my pleas he puts his arm around me.  
  
"Kiss me." He whispers.  
  
"Roger. . ."  
  
"No one's gonna see, and if they do they won't care."  
  
He rubs my shoulder. "It's alright."  
  
Cautiously I look up at him and bring my lips to his. He kisses me gently, allowing me to pull back whenever I want. I don't until I need to catch my breath. I look down at the table. Roger laughs softly and tilts my chin up with his finger and kisses my cheek.  
  
"See? It's all right. You're alright."  
  
I nod and smile at him. "Yeah, yeah it is."  
  
I kiss him again, but I pull away when I hear a giggle. I compose myself slightly and stare at the table again.  
  
Our waitress giggles again. "That's so cute!"  
  
I look up at her. She's smiling at Roger who grins back at her and pulls me closer to him. I make an attempt at a smile as well as she puts a couple of glasses of water on our table. She pulls a notepad out of her pocket.  
  
"What are we having?" She asks.  
  
Roger and I exchange a glance, we still had barely looked at the menu.  
  
"What's good?" I ask her.  
  
She giggles. "Pancakes?"  
  
We both nod. "Just plain pancakes." I tell her. She makes a note.  
  
"Anything to drink?"  
  
"Tea."  
  
"Coffee. Black."  
  
She smiles again, she's really pretty.  
  
"I'll be back with those in a minute."  
  
With a last smile she's gone.  
  
Roger kisses my cheek.  
  
"See? You're fine."  
  
I rest my head on his shoulder.  
  
"Better than fine."  
  
+++  
  
Notes Continued: The next mini-M/R chappie will tell what happens the rest of their day of hooky. It'll be fun, promise. Thanks for reading/reviewing. 


	45. We’re Not The Same People We Were Then

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes: Thanks as usual for your reviews and such, I'm such a slut for them. ;) I like this chapter because there's some of that HS M/R cuteness in it, and some (cough) I'm not telling! I probably just gave it away though. Anyway, enjoy!  
  
Chapter 45 -We're Not The Same People We Were Then-  
  
+Roger's POV+  
  
I walk beside Mark, looking over at him occasionally. He seems sadder than usual. I brought him out to cheer him up, but now I think maybe it would have been better to just let him be. I want to put my arm around him, or hold his hand, but I don't know how comfortable he'd be with it. In the past I've usually let physical contact between us in public be on his terms, him being more nervous about it than me. Sometimes he'd surprise me though, or allow me to take a small action, but after being so forceful about wanting to take it slow I don't want to confuse him.  
  
"Where are we going, Rog?" He asks me.  
  
I shrug. Then an idea comes to me. "Hey, you wanna go see a movie?"  
  
He looks over at me, his eyebrows raised. "Rog, you don't like going to movies."  
  
"Sure I do." I lie. He looks unconvinced. "Really. Lots of fun. Besides, you really like to, and you never do."  
  
"We don't have money to waste."  
  
"Don't you ever do anything fun?" I ask him.  
  
"Well, with dealing with a reformed junkie I happen to be in love with, his stripper girlfriend keeping us apart, being dumped by my own girlfriend for another woman, not to mention fatal diseases slowly killing half of my friends, and trying to find money to pay for food and rent that you're trying to spend, no, I don't have any fun."  
  
I stop walking and pull him to a stop with me.  
  
"I didn't know you felt that way."  
  
"You never bothered to ask."  
  
I lay my hand on his cheek and bend over and kiss his forehead. Fuck taking it slow if he's hurting this bad. I expect him to flinch or try to deflect my actions, but he does nothing, he almost welcomes them.  
  
"I'm sorry, Marky." I tell him.  
  
He manages a weak smile. "Don't call me Marky."  
  
I pull him into an embrace, holding him tightly, feeling his hands gripping my shirt, his head against my chest.  
  
"I love you." I whisper to him.  
  
He sniffs. "I love you too, Rog."  
  
I feel wetness on my head, then more on my arm. It starts to rain as he pulls away.  
  
"Oh fuck."  
  
He just laughs and slips his hand into mine. "You told me you were taking me to see a movie anyway."  
  
I grin at him. "Damn straight." I kiss his cheek and squeeze his hand as we start walking.  
  
"So what is this?" I ask him. "I mean, don't you care that we're on the street?"  
  
He shakes his head. "I don't care anymore. I 'm not wasting my time with you because I'm scared of a few idiots. What happens, happens."  
  
It's a speech I had always hoped to hear from him. Excitedly I take my hand away from him and put it around his shoulders. He moves closer and wraps his arm around my waist. I kiss his temple as we walk.  
  
"Here." I tell him, pointing at a theatre we're coming up on.  
  
"Here?" He asks. "This place is shit!"  
  
The place he's referring to is a dilapidated, very old theatre that plays grainy, artistic crap that shouldn't be released anywhere. Exactly the sort of thing I had imagined Mark enjoying. My first apartment with April was very nearby here, I remembered seeing it my first week and thinking about Mark. I'd always wanted to take him here.  
  
"I thought you'd like it." I tell him, pouting.  
  
"No, no. It's great." He says, reading one of the peeling posters outside.  
  
"Oh, so you mean it's like, 'the' shit?"  
  
He laughs at me. "Yeah!"  
  
"We're so tragically not hip."  
  
"Maybe you are." He says.  
  
I feign hurt and he laughs softly and kisses my cheek. I pull him to me and kiss his lips.  
  
"What are we seeing?" I ask him.  
  
"There're only two movies, Rog." He looks at the other poster and points at it. "That one."  
  
Once I've paid and we've gone inside, Mark looks around the theatre's inside.  
  
"Rog, there's no one else here."  
  
"There's still about ten minutes. Maybe a couple of other film junkies like you will wander in."  
  
He flinches at the word 'junkie' and I inwardly scold myself for using it. We sit in the back of the theatre, Mark puts his arm around me and leans against my shoulder. When the movie begins, Mark looks up at me.  
  
"There's still no one here." He whispers.  
  
"So why are you whispering?"  
  
He grins at me. "You know what we would've done now back in high school?"  
  
I groan. "And you've always said I was perverted. Don't even think about it."  
  
He kisses my chin and then my lips. It's fine until he starts to move his hand up my leg.  
  
"Mark, really." I breathe. "I don't have any condoms."  
  
He raises his eyebrows. "Whoa! Now who's going too fast?"  
  
I kiss him again. "I hate you."  
  
His hand moves farther and I gasp. "I haven't given you a reason to yet." He says.  
  
"Damn you." I whisper.  
  
His fingers play around the zipper of my pants, finally slowly undoing it.  
  
"No. . ." I say, making one last desperate effort before his hand slides into my pants. I kiss him harder, my own hand now finding its way to his pants.  
  
"Fuck, I want you." He says against my lips.  
  
"You are such a slut." I tell him, chuckling softly. "No one would ever guess."  
  
He laughs as well and I moan when he quickens the pace of his hand. I myself am having trouble, seeing as how I'm not left-handed and finding his zipper and successfully undoing it is rather difficult. Finally though, I succeed and am able to take similar actions to his. I'm rewarded with his own moans of pleasure. The movie continues despite our lack of attention.  
  
"Oh Jesus, Mark. I'm gonna. . ."  
  
"It's ok." He whispers, kissing me again. "It's alright."  
  
I grab at his arm with my other hand and tilt my head back and with a low moan I allow release. He kisses my throat, letting his tongue drag over the sensitive skin. I give myself a minute for some recovery, then remove his hand and refasten my pants. Getting out of my seat I kiss him deeply, then lower myself to my knees in front of him. He laughs softly.  
  
"Roger, what are you, oh. . ."  
  
I take him my mouth, wrapping my hand around the base. He groans loudly, resting his hand on my arm, then tightening his grip. I run my tongue along his length and he whimpers softly and I know he won't last much longer, but then again, he never does when I do this. It's only a moment later I'm taking my seat beside him again.  
  
"What's this movie about?" I ask him as he re-zips his pants.  
  
"I don't really know." He says. "But the other one was something about lesbians."  
  
"What?" I ask, incredulous.  
  
He glares at me.  
  
"Oh. Uh, I mean, yeah. Good choice. Totally."  
  
He elbows me and I elbow him back. "Behave." I tell him.  
  
"There's a first, you telling me to behave."  
  
I kiss him gently. "I take it back. I actually like you better when you don't behave."  
  
"Pervert." He says, grinning. It's harder to make him blush now that he's older. In high school a comment like that would have earned me an adorably shy smile and a bright red face. I kiss him again.  
  
"This movie's bad." I whisper to him.  
  
He shrugs. "I haven't been following." He takes my hand. "C'mon, let's get out of here."  
  
"It's still raining, I can hear it."  
  
"So?"  
  
I smile and when he stands up I follow him out. We walk out together holding hands and start down the street, soaked before we've gone a block.  
  
"Hey," He says suddenly. "How much money do we have left?"  
  
I shrug. "Probably like five bucks."  
  
He points at a building. "Let's get ice cream!"  
  
I laugh at him, because he looks pretty excited. "Alright, sure."  
  
We hurry inside, eager to get away from the cold rain. I hand Mark the money I fish out of my pocket and find us a table. He comes back a minute later with an enormous sunday.  
  
He hands me a spoon and I dig into it before he even sits down.  
  
"Hey, slow down!" He laughs.  
  
I stop the spoonful I have in the air and move it toward my mouth as slowly as possible. He groans.  
  
"Don't be weird."  
  
I turn the spoon toward him and hold it out in front of him. He gives me a strange look, but opens his mouth. When I take the spoon away he does the same thing to me.  
  
"Hey, you've got some on you." He laughs. He leans across the table and kisses me on the chin, then on the lips. He tastes sweet. When he sits back he smiles shyly at me. I grin back at him. I like this new Mark, that makes the first move in public, that doesn't mind that he might take a little heat for loving me. He knows this time that it's worth it.  
  
+++  
  
"Are you sure you wanna do this, Rog? We don't have to, not yet, you know." He whispers.  
  
I shake my head. "I'm sure." I kiss him, laughing softly. "We're both going to go insane waiting."  
  
We make love, long and slow, with a love and tenderness I don't think we've ever achieved before. I've spent so much time pining over our days together in high school and thinking how much better off we were, how great our relationship was, I never considered what it would be like if we built upon what we had instead of trying to duplicate it. We're not the same people we were then, we're not going to love the same way, we're lucky we still love each other now. I think he gets it this time, he's stopped focusing on me as a guy, he sees me as his lover now. I've matured. And although that means that lighthearted kid I was in high school isn't really possible anymore, I think I could be better. I hope I can be. I want to be. For Mark.  
  
+++  
  
Notes Continued: Mmm... hurried sex scenes. This story is slowly becoming less of a story and more The Soft-Core Adventures of Mark and Roger. Lol. Uh... I don't know what to do next chapter for the oldies, any suggestions? Like, honestly. If not it might be awhile while I think of something. ;) Chappie 46 coming sometime tomorrow, I just have to type it up. (I really need to find a life outside of fanfiction... lol.) 


	46. Pleased That I'm Happy

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes: a little later than I hoped, but true to my word still 'tomorrow'. Lol. Not much to say, hope you enjoy the chappie, thanks for everything, guys!  
  
Chapter 46 -Pleased That I'm Happy-  
  
+Mark's POV+  
  
I think about our waitress on the drive back to Roger's house. Roger was right, most people really don't care that we're together. It doesn't stop me from being afraid of those that do, but it helps a little bit. It seems any other time we've shown affection in public something has happened to make me hesitant to try it again, which is unfortunate since I know how happy it makes Roger. We're driving in our usual way, me all the way over on the seat next to him, his arm around me. I watch his face when he drives, when there's traffic he concentrates harder and his brow furrows and he looks concerned. It's really, well, cute I guess. Seems weird to call Roger cute, but at this moment he is.  
  
He pulls up in front of his house and stops the car. We get out and walk to the house together, his hand in mine.  
  
"She's gone, right?" I ask him nervously.  
  
He nods. "Her car's not here, she's gone."  
  
When we're inside he stops me.  
  
"Wait here." He tells me, rushing upstairs. I watch him go, then roll my eyes and sit on the couch to wait. About ten minutes later Roger comes back down, grinning.  
  
"What did you do?" I ask him suspiciously.  
  
He pulls on my hand. "C'mon. Come with me."  
  
Hesitantly I get up and follow him up the stairs. Instead of his bedroom, which I expected, he leads me into the bathroom, and when I see the reason, a tub full of bubbles, I laugh, then wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him.  
  
"You are so weird." I tell him. He only grins at me, pleased that I'm happy. When I kiss him again he starts to tug on my shirt, that I let him remove, and he runs his hands over my chest before letting them rest on my waist. Before long our clothes are in a pile on the floor and Roger is climbing into the tub, pulling me with him. He sits at the end of tub and leans against the wall and I situate myself between his legs and lay against his chest. He wraps his arms around me and kisses my neck, gently nipping beneath my ear. I place my hand on his thighs to brace myself against his actions. He dips his hands into the warm water and slowly runs them over my chest and stomach. With his lips still on my neck his hand slowly moves lower and the combination of the warmth from the water and his touch are enough to allow me to emit a low moan and tighten my grip on his legs. He laughs softly in my ear at my reaction.  
  
"You're too easy." He says softly.  
  
"I'm easy? You're the one with the eternal sex drive."  
  
"You're the one that lets me act on it."  
  
"I don't know how you'd live if I didn't."  
  
"I wouldn't." He whispers, kissing me again.  
  
"Oh nice, Rog." I say, pretending to be offended. "That's like saying you only want me for sex."  
  
"You know I don't." He says, hurt.  
  
"I was only kidding."  
  
"I can get sex anytime." He says honestly. "I love you."  
  
"Like where?" I ask him, thinking bitterly of April.  
  
He laughs. "Marky, I'm in a band."  
  
"Mmm, groupies." I tease him.  
  
More laughter. "Hey, can you stay here tonight?"  
  
I shrug. "I can try."  
  
"Try hard. I really want you to."  
  
"Well me too now that I know about those random groupies you can get laid from anytime."  
  
"Jealous?" He grins.  
  
"Actually, yeah, I would be." I tell him.  
  
He kisses my shoulder. "You don't have to worry, baby. I think cheating's the worst thing possible. I'd never cheat on you."  
  
"That's comforting."  
  
He starts playing with the bubbles in front of me; I watch his actions warily. He manages to create two lopsided lumps of bubbles on my chest.  
  
"Hey, you've got boobs!" He laughs.  
  
I groan and wipe at my chest. "Stop it!" I pick up my own pile of bubbles and lift it up in the air and drop it behind me onto his head.  
  
"My hair!"  
  
I laugh at him as he wipes it off. He gives me a sinister grin before digging his fingers into my sides, tickling me furiously.  
  
"No! Stop!" I squeal, leaning against him. He laughs loudly, the sound filling the small space in the bathroom. He lets his hands rest on my sides and kisses my neck.  
  
"I love you."  
  
"Love you too." I tell him, turning my head to kiss his lips.  
  
+++  
  
"Mom?"  
  
I hear her sigh. "Why aren't you coming home tonight, Mark?"  
  
"Studying with Maureen. Really." I tell her.  
  
"Mark. . ."  
  
"Mom I need to study, you want me to pass don't you? I would have thought you'd want me to excel in school, but maybe I was. . ."  
  
"Fine, Mark. Do you need anything?"  
  
Shit. I think fast. If Roger drives me over there she's gonna know I'm not at Maureen's house. I don't want to risk going home anyway, she might try and talk me into staying there.  
  
"No, you know what, I'll have Roger pick me up early at her house tomorrow morning and I can stop at home and change and whatever before school."  
  
She sighs. "Whatever, Mark. I'll see you tomorrow then, hopefully. I love you."  
  
"Yeah, you too." I tell her quickly, hanging up.  
  
Roger comes back in the kitchen a moment later, his face hopeful.  
  
"So. . ." He asks.  
  
"Yeah. But I've got to go home before school tomorrow morning and. . ."  
  
"Sure." He says quickly, pulling me into a hug. "This is great!" When he lets go he wanders over to the fridge and I take a seat at his table.  
  
"So what are we doing today?" I ask him.  
  
He stops drinking out of an orange juice container long enough to grin at me and wink, then continues. When he finishes he burps loudly and crushes the cardboard container. He sends a satisfied look down at it, obviously impressed by his own 'strength', but a moment later he quickly throws it in the trash after he realizes his hands are covered in goopy pulp.  
  
"Ew!" He squeals, initiating a sizeable amount of amusement on my part. He glares at me as he washes his hands.  
  
"Not funny."  
  
I get up and stand behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist and leaning against his back. "Aw, did Roger get slimed by the mean old juice?"  
  
"Yeah, I did." He pouts, when I laugh at him again.  
  
I pull away from him as he turns around and wipes his wet hands on his pants. "So what are we doing?" I ask him.  
  
"Well I know what we're doing tonight, but as for now, no idea."  
  
"I skipped school for this?"  
  
"It was your idea! And don't tell me school is more fascinating than me!"  
  
I roll my eyes. "Yes, watching you stand around your kitchen always gets me going."  
  
He wraps his arm around my shoulders and kisses my cheek. "Yeah, it does."  
  
"What does that mean?"  
  
"Only that you want me, cause I'm sexy."  
  
I know I'm blushing but I tease him back. "Well I want you, but it sure isn't because you're sexy." I say, sending him a disapproving look."  
  
He gives me a hurt look. "I'm not?"  
  
I kiss him gently. "You know you are, don't make me say it."  
  
He grins at me and pulls me into a tight embrace. "Say it."  
  
"No."  
  
"I think you're sexy." He tells me, kissing my forehead.  
  
I roll my eyes. "Fine, you're sexy. Happy?"  
  
He kisses me again. "Let's go for a drive." He says, and before I can protest or agree he's pulling me outside towards his car.  
  
+++ (later that night)  
  
"Roger this is really tacky." I tell him.  
  
"Where else are we going to go?" He asks me.  
  
"A bed?"  
  
"You promised me a car, Marky."  
  
"Don't call me Marky. And I am not fucking you in a parking lot."  
  
He kisses me gently on the lips. "You sure?"  
  
"Yes, I'm. . . no." I say as his hand that was on my shoulder drifts very low on my body.  
  
"No?"  
  
I kiss him back, laying my hands on his chest and moving toward him.  
  
"Yes." I say, pulling away.  
  
He smirks. "Yes what?"  
  
"Yes I'll fuck you in your backseat in a parking lot." I kiss him again.  
  
He laughs softly. "That's what I thought."  
  
He moves away from me and gets out of the car, I do the same and we meet up again in his backseat. He lies back, pulling me on top of him. Our lips meet again in a soft kiss, and when I pull back he runs a hand through my hair, smiling up at me.  
  
"I love you." He whispers.  
  
"I know." I tell him. "You tell me all the time. I love you too."  
  
Kiss. His hands move down onto my back.  
  
"Make love to me, Marky. I like when you do." He says quietly.  
  
I nod at him, and start tugging his shirt over his head. I kiss his chest, letting my fingers drag along his sides and he shivers slightly. He pulls on my shirt that I raise my arms to get off, and I press my skin against his, wishing I looked as good as he did. Roger never seems to mind, however. And besides, he calls me sexy. Not likely that it's really true, but it's nice he thinks so.  
  
It still hurts him a little bit when I enter him, we haven't done it this way as often, but I go slow like he does. He's still afraid of hurting me and though often our lovemaking is feverish and passionate, he's careful to always be gentle with me. Sometimes too much so, I have to assure him that it's fine to go faster or even harder. He tightens his grip on my arms, whimpering slightly under his breath. I stop for a moment and lean over and press a soft kiss to his lips. He opens his eyes and smiles at me.  
  
"You ok?" I ask him.  
  
He nods. "Great."  
  
Afterwards he pulls me close to him and reaches on the floor behind the driver's seat and pulls up a blanket. I laugh at him.  
  
"You planned this."  
  
He grins. "You planned this. I promise I won't bother you about prom anymore." He says, laying the blanket over us.  
  
"I don't know." I say, resting my head on his shoulder. "Maybe it wouldn't be that bad."  
  
+++  
  
Notes Continued: Hem. (cough) more plot less sex (cough). But I can't resist. Eventually I'll get back on track, whenever I find a track to get on. I've stopped caring about how endless this is a while ago. Now I'm just astounded that I have this much free time. Lol. Thanks as usual for reading/reviewing, you guys rock. 


	47. I Feel Perfectly Fine

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes: Saw RENT last night. All I have to say is, well, that was the peak of my existence. Collins was amazing, I was bawling during the 'I'll Cover You' reprise and Mimi was just awesome, and so hot. I'm such a loser. I cried so hard when she died, even though I knew she was gonna come back. Idiot, idiot. Joanne and Maureen, ah, PERFECT! And I want to marry the soloist #1 from 'Seasons of Love'. I loved Mark so much, he was so awkward and adorable, like I always thought he should be. And Roger's acting was awesome, and his voice was great, but I'm a wee bit too obsessed with Adam Pascal to say he was perfect. But they were all great. Definitely amazing. Speechless after the show amazing. I'll stop now.  
  
Sorry I took so long to update, (and apologize for spontaneous review of show). Remember that I didn't know really what was going to happen, though now I have a fairly good idea (thanks for the people who suggested something in their reviews!), and I've otherwise been busy. It won't take so long next time. Thanks for everything guys, you rule!  
  
Chapter 47 -I Feel Perfectly Fine-  
  
+Roger's POV+  
  
I watch him put his coat on.  
  
"Where are you going?" I ask him.  
  
"To buy food." He says with a small smile.  
  
"Oh. Should I go with you?"  
  
He shakes his head. "No, you're fine." He smiles. "You can stay here and play with your guitar."  
  
He comes over to me and kisses me gently on the cheek.  
  
"Take your AZT." He says.  
  
I watch him leave and put my guitar down when he's gone. I go into the bathroom and stare at the AZT bottle in disdain. I poke it and it rattles and falls over. I sigh and pick it up and gaze intently at it some more. Why was I stupid enough to have to need them? I fill a glass of water from the tap and swallow the stupid thing. Are these really keeping me alive? Are they even worth it? Would it really matter if I stopped taking them? I've been feeling sick with them, sometimes just as sick as I used to be without them. I set the pills back down and walk back out to my guitar. C Chord. Disgusted, I put it back in its case. I'm sort of hungry, but I suppose I have to wait for Mark to come back with food. The phone rings and I stare at it expectantly.  
  
"Speak."  
  
"Roger," Comes a tired voice of a familiar woman. "This is your mother. . ."  
  
I hear her sigh as I inch toward it. "Just thought I'd. . ."  
  
I pick it up.  
  
"Mom?"  
  
I hear a short gasp. I know she wasn't expecting me to actually pick it up.  
  
"Roger? Oh honey. . ."  
  
"How are you?" I ask her, sitting on the table.  
  
"Fine, I'm just fine. How are you? What are you doing? Where have you been?"  
  
"I've been. . . around. But good. Yeah, I'm good now."  
  
"Good, good." I hear her sniff, she's crying now. "God I've missed you, baby."  
  
"Hey, it's alright." I tell her, smiling to myself. "I miss you too, mom."  
  
"Well, uh, are you still in a band, are you with anyone?"  
  
"Well, I, uh. You know, I'm gonna come see you, mom." I wince, remembering that we live on cereal and spend the rest of our money on my AZT. "As soon as I get some money." I promise. "I'll. . ."  
  
"Oh! I'll send it to you!" She says eagerly. "If you're coming here." She sniffs again. "Oh God, are you really?"  
  
"Mom, you can't. You can't afford. . ."  
  
"Don't you go telling me what I can't afford, young man. I know better than you." She says jokingly. Her voice softens. "I'm fine. Don't worry about it, Roger. I'm fine here."  
  
"Mom, settle down. It's ok. I'm ok." I tell her, knowing it's only half-true. The door opens behind me. Mark gives me a confused smile when he sees me on the phone. He's holding a modest bag of groceries that I eye hungrily. I tell my mom our address and she says she's going to send me money first thing tomorrow.  
  
"Alright, alright." I smile as she sniffs again. "Mom, calm down. It's alright."  
  
When Mark hears this he gives me a questioning look and stops unloading the groceries. I just smile at him.  
  
"You'll be here by this weekend?" She asks.  
  
"Yeah, I'll leave as soon as the money gets here, mom."  
  
Now Mark looks concerned.  
  
"God, it's so good to talk to you. Where do you get off not answering my calls? Never calling me? Roger, I thought we were closer than that."  
  
I flinch at the hurt in her voice. "Yeah, I know. Look, uh, I'll grovel when I get there, ok?"  
  
She laughs softly. "Alright. I love you."  
  
"You too, mom. See you soon."  
  
When we hang up Mark continues unpacking the bag.  
  
"You're leaving?" He asks me quietly.  
  
"We're leaving." I tell him, going over to him and wrapping my arms around him. "You need a break." I kiss him gently.  
  
He removes my hands. "Does your mom know you're. . . you know?"  
  
Trying to avoid it I grin at him. "Gay? Yeah, you were there, remember?"  
  
He rolls his eyes. "Does she know you have HIV?"  
  
I hate when he actually comes out and talks about it. It reminds me of how real it is and how the inevitable isn't in the distant future. I sigh and shake my head.  
  
"This is the first time I've really talked to her since I moved out here."  
  
"But why? You were pretty close, right?"  
  
"Yeah, well. . ." I shrug. "I don't know, Mark. Things change, I guess."  
  
He gives me a funny look but says nothing.  
  
"You don't call your mother. And you avoid her calls." I shoot back at him.  
  
He rolls his eyes. "If you had my mother you'd avoid her too."  
  
"She's not so bad." I tell him.  
  
"She likes Cindy better."  
  
My turn to roll my eyes. "Mark, don't be stupid."  
  
He crosses his arms and leans against the wall. "Well it's true!"  
  
I hold my arms out to him and he hesitantly moves into them. I let my lips brush against his forehead.  
  
"Well, I like you better than Cindy."  
  
"You don't like Cindy."  
  
I shrug. "I don't like anybody. But I like you. Doesn't that make you feel special?"  
  
"Will it crush you if I say no?"  
  
"A minor ego bruise."  
  
He kisses me quickly. "Well then, yeah, it does."  
  
I pull him into a full hug and he wraps his arms around me too. The phone rings.  
  
"Speak."  
  
"Rent time boys! Be there in a few!" Click.  
  
"Fuck." We both say. Mark gives me a hopeful look.  
  
"Do you have any money?"  
  
I go to my guitar case and dig into the pocket. I hold my hand out to Mark.  
  
"Think Benny will take two dollars in change?"  
  
He digs into his pocket. "Two forty in change, now."  
  
We lay it on the table.  
  
Not long after our money hunt there's a brief knock on the door and then it's flung open. Benny gives me a contemptuous look and talks to Mark.  
  
"You owe me months, scratch that, years in back rent but since I'm your buddy I'll just take the last two months worth."  
  
Mark sheepishly points at the table.  
  
"That's it?"  
  
"That's all we have." I growl at him. He ignores me.  
  
"Mark! How can I keep letting you two live here for free?"  
  
"We're giving you $2.40, Benny! You're not going home empty handed."  
  
"Better get the bribe, Mark." I tell him.  
  
Mark goes into the kitchen. He comes back and hands Benny a box of Captain Crunch.  
  
Benny stares at it. "Two dollars and a box of cereal?"  
  
"Breakfast of champions." I tell him. "And lunch, and dinner, come to think about it." He still ignores me.  
  
"Dammit, Mark!" He says, his voice rising. "I thought we were cool! I don't mind a little charity, but this isn't a homeless shelter!"  
  
"Don't yell at him." I warn, getting off my place on the table.  
  
Mark waves me away, saying he can handle it, but I still move a little closer. Benny casts an arrogant look in my direction.  
  
"Hey, I saw Mimi not long ago." He says.  
  
I clench my fists, I can just see Mark shaking his head at me.  
  
"She's living with her mother, called me for lunch."  
  
I can't resist the urge to ask. "Is she clean?"  
  
He looks mildly startled. "Well, yes, actually." He continues, his voice low and cruel. "Anyway, she told me how much she misses me, and how she felt so horrible for dumping me for that inconsiderate asshole, Roger."  
  
I should know better. I should know that Mimi is better than that now, that she wouldn't say something like that anymore. I should know, but I don't and I lunge at Benny, my fist colliding with his face.  
  
"Roger!" Mark yells, exasperation in his tone.  
  
Benny works hard to get me off of him but I'm stronger, until Mark helps by pulling me off of him.  
  
"Mark! Dammit! Let me. . ."  
  
"Shut up, Roger." Mark says coldly, his grip tight on my arms. I could get away if I tried, but decide against it.  
  
Benny stands up, holding his jaw that I got more than a few good hits on.  
  
"Mark, you can stay here for free if you get rid of him!" And then he's gone through the door, slamming it behind him.  
  
Mark lets me go and pushes me away from him and goes into the bathroom.  
  
"Hey, what?" I ask him angrily.  
  
He comes back out with a small clump of wet toilet paper.  
  
"You're such an idiot." He sighs. "Why do you do stuff like that? You know Mimi better than that, you know Benny well enough too. Why do you let him get to you?"  
  
He motions for me to sit down and I do.  
  
"What's that for?"  
  
"You're bleeding." He holds it out to my head but I take it from him.  
  
"Don't touch me. Where?"  
  
"Above your eye. The other one."  
  
I wipe at it and sigh. "I don't know, Mark. I try, but you know I don't like Benny."  
  
"Right." He smirks. "You don't like anybody."  
  
He sits down next to me. "Why do you still care what Mimi thinks of you anyway?"  
  
"Dammit, Mark. . ." I hiss at him.  
  
"Roger, you. . ."  
  
"Don't. Ok? Just don't." The cold in my voice surprises even me.  
  
"Fine. Whatever." He gets up and starts to walk away.  
  
"I'm sorry that I loved her, ok? Is that what you want to hear? That I'm sorry I left you, I'm sorry I gave you up to Maureen, I'm sorry I let her hurt you! I'm sorry I fell in love with Mimi and I'm sorry that I still love her!" I yell at his back.  
  
He turns around and is about to say something fierce, I can tell. I cough then, suddenly and violently and it hurts my chest badly. I half- heartedly cover my mouth with the hand holding the blood stained toilet paper and see a couple very small stray drops of blood near where my fingers are holding it. Did I just cough out blood or were they just droplets from before? I try to just shake my head and forget it but Mark saw my troubled look.  
  
"Roger? Are you. . ."  
  
"I'm fine." I wave him away and go into the bathroom. I throw the little wad of paper away and stare at myself in the mirror. I feel perfectly fine.  
  
+++  
  
Notes Continued: my poor Roger. I love him to pieces. Thanks for reading/reviewing. Sorry again it took so long. It'll be sooner for the next update, promise.  
  
I've posted a new chapter story. Two chappies so far. It's called No Need To Endure Anymore. It will eventually have some M/R in it though how and how much I'm not sure. It's kind of bizarre and totally different from this, but I'm enjoying writing it. However, this story is my first priority. Don't worry, I won't leave you hanging or anything else cruel and unusual. 


	48. Roger's Not The Type

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes: A different kind of 'graphic' in this chappie. More along the lines of abuse. I warn, I warn.  
  
Oh yeah, and just like any other time we are tutoring Roger, it's all relative to what I'm learning in school at the time. The big test on WWII isn't a fantasy. It's real, and it's tomorrow. Save me.  
  
Chapter 48 -Roger's Not The Type-  
  
+Mark's POV+ (a couple weeks later)  
  
I sit restlessly on the floor in Maureen's room, a history book open on my lap. Maureen is struggling to explain to Roger the fundamentals of WWII. Unfortunately, all he's grasped so far is that Hitler was a part of it.  
  
"Alright, so you get that Hitler basically took over Germany and wanted to, like, rule the world or something?"  
  
Roger nods and yawns. "Yeah."  
  
"Ok. Now do you understand what I meant about the whole 'master race' thing?"  
  
He shrugs. "Can you say it again?"  
  
She rolls her eyes. "You have to be the densest person in the world!"  
  
"Maureen. . ." I warn her.  
  
"Isn't Hitler that guy that killed all the Jewish people?" Roger asks thoughtfully.  
  
She gives him a hopeful look. "Yes."  
  
"Mark's Jewish. Does he want to kill Mark?"  
  
She groans. "He's dead, Roger. He can't kill Mark."  
  
"Would he?"  
  
I throw a pillow at him. "No one's gonna kill me. Will you concentrate?"  
  
He gives me an apologetic look. We're trying to help him cram for an important history test he has tomorrow, but his attention span has been waning again. He seems distracted somehow, more so than usual. I haven't seen him in awhile outside of school. He's either been working or just 'busy'. If I didn't know him better I'd think he was avoiding me. But Roger's not the type to avoid someone. If he had a problem with me he'd just come right out and say it.  
  
Maureen continues her less than profound description of Hitler's antics and then proceeds to talk about the America's involvement, making sure Roger knows she was against it.  
  
"What about Pearl Harbor though?" He asks. "Isn't that a good reason for a war or whatever?"  
  
"You know about Pearl Harbor?" She asks, incredulous.  
  
He looks offended. "I'm not an idiot, Maureen. I know some stuff."  
  
Maureen almost looks sorry. "Well, I know, but. . . well you don't know a lot of school stuff. So it's kind of weird when you just come out and say something like that."  
  
He shrugs and runs his finger over the lacing on his shoe.  
  
Something is bothering him. I can tell by the way he snapped at Maureen. They usually get along, unless I cut plans with Maureen to be with Roger, but there's something different in the way he's acting toward her tonight. And the same thing with me. He hasn't been nearly as affectionate as usual. Normally he's pulling me into the bathroom at school at odd moments to make out or we spend at least some time together after school, but there hasn't been any of that for a few days. Even today when he pulled up in front of Maureen's house and I went out to meet him, the way he kissed me was agonizingly distant. He just wasn't there.  
  
He looks up at Maureen's clock and his eyes widen slightly.  
  
"Shit, guys. I gotta go." He stands up apologetically.  
  
"Where are you going?" I ask him.  
  
"Uh, work. I have to work."  
  
"Roger, what is going on with you? You used to work one maybe two days a week. Now you're there every night?" I give him a hard look. "Where are you really going?"  
  
"Home." He glares at me. "I've gotta go." He says again.  
  
Maureen is watching the two of us in silence. I grab his arm and lead him into the hallway.  
  
"What is it? Huh? What has been wrong with you recently?"  
  
He pulls his arm away. "Nothing. I'm fine. Totally fine." He starts to leave again. I grab the wrist on his other hand. To my surprise he cries out in pain. Immediately I let go and step backwards. He turns around to face me, holding his arm.  
  
"Are you ok?" I ask him, looking at his arm.  
  
"Fine, fine. Just great."  
  
"Roger. . ."  
  
"I'm fine, Mark!"  
  
"Let me see your arm."  
  
"No."  
  
"Roger, what are you hiding?"  
  
"Nothing, I just. . ."  
  
I reach out, surprising both of us and grab a hold of his wrist. Again he howls with pain and I push up the sleeves of his shirt and his coat. A series of ugly bruises runs along his wrist.  
  
"Where is this from?" I ask him, my voice quiet.  
  
"Nowhere." He says quickly, taking his arm back and pushing his sleeves down. "It doesn't matter."  
  
I watch him go, hurrying down the stairs and toward the front door. He doesn't look back. Sighing heavily, I go back into Maureen's room.  
  
"What was that about?" She asks me.  
  
I decide not to tell her what I saw. If Roger won't tell me I shouldn't say anything to Maureen. I shrug.  
  
"I don't know. I think something's wrong with him."  
  
She snorts and picks up a bottle of nail polish. "Well something's definitely wrong with him."  
  
I glare at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
She shrugs.  
  
I watch her paint her nails in silence.  
  
"What are you going to do after summer?" She asks.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Well, he's graduating, hopefully, in May isn't he?"  
  
To be honest, I wasn't thinking much about it. "Well, I guess he is, but. . ."  
  
"He's not like, going to college, right?" She looks thoughtful. "Who'd take him?"  
  
"Maureen, shut up."  
  
"I'm just saying. . ."  
  
"He's not stupid, Maureen. He just doesn't try hard in school. He's gotten better though, a lot better. Haven't you noticed?"  
  
"No, not really. I don't lust after him with drool hanging down to my chest like you do."  
  
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"  
  
"You don't have time for me anymore!"  
  
I throw my arms up. "I'm here now, aren't I?"  
  
"So I can help Roger study cause I'm good at history! Why are you still here, Marky? Aren't you gonna run after your boyfriend?"  
  
"Dammit Maureen! Can you just stop it?"  
  
She gives me a long look. "You're different, Marky. He changed you. I don't know if I like it."  
  
"You don't think I'm better off now that I used to be?"  
  
She shakes her head. "We never talk anymore. I don't feel close to you."  
  
I roll my eyes. "What, you miss having someone to unload your shit on? Cause that's what you did, Maureen. We never 'talked'! It was you telling me how horrible your life was and. . ."  
  
"Well, fine!" She says, standing up, tears in her eyes. "I thought you were my friend! I thought you cared about me, and I wouldn't have told you any of that stuff if I had known you didn't care!" She kicks my backpack toward me. "Just get out!"  
  
I stare at it for a moment, then look back up at her. Beautiful, of course, with her lovely eyes full of tears.  
  
"Mo, look. . ."  
  
"Go away, Mark."  
  
"No, Maureen, listen. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, ok?" I step toward her hesitantly. Touch her arm. She wraps her arms around herself and looks away.  
  
"I didn't mean what I said. I do care about you, I don't mind listening to you." I lay my hands on her upper arms, turn her to face me. "But don't say those things about Roger, ok? Honestly, Mo. I love you, you're my best friend, but I love Roger too. I don't like watching you two fight."  
  
She bites her lip. "I'm sorry too." She whispers, barely audible. Probably cost her a lot to say it. I pull her into a hug, let her cry on my shoulder for a minute.  
  
"I'm gonna go though, ok? I know Roger's not working and something's up with him. I'm gonna go to his house, see if he's there or what."  
  
She nods. "Be careful."  
  
I give her a funny look.  
  
"Well, it's dark out! And you're gonna be walking, so be careful!"  
  
I roll my eyes. "Thanks, Mo. I think."  
  
I pick up my backpack and set out to follow Roger.  
  
+++  
  
There's a car I've never seen before outside of his house. I walk around it hesitantly, giving it the once over, and continue on to his door. Before I knock I hear voices from inside.  
  
"You I don't mean any of that stuff, Linda. I just get angry. I get crazy when I'm angry."  
  
"I know, I know."  
  
"That kid doesn't get it. I swear to God if he tries to punch me again I'm going to put him in the hospital."  
  
I feel something tighten in my stomach.  
  
"Don't say that."  
  
"Say what? I've been plenty lenient with him. He used to be an ok kid. But now he's talking back, he's trying to hit me? What'd you do to him?"  
  
"I didn't do anything. That's just the way he is. Roger can be difficult."  
  
"Kids shouldn't be 'difficult'. They should do what you tell 'em too."  
  
I hear their voices die away and cautiously I knock. I hear someone coming to the door. Roger's mom looks down at me. She gives me a tired, weary smile. There's a bruise on her left cheek.  
  
"Hello, dear. Haven't seen you for a while. I'll get Roger. I'm sure he'll be glad to see you."  
  
Not likely, I think. A few moments later Roger appears on the stairs and hurries over to the door. He quickly closes it as much as possible while still being able to talk to me.  
  
"Mark, you shouldn't be here." He says quietly.  
  
"Roger, look. . ."  
  
"No. Leave. Go now. Please." He begs, casting a worried glance over his shoulder.  
  
"Roger, what's going on?"  
  
"It doesn't matter. Look I'll see you in school tomorrow, ok? Thanks for the study help, it was great really, I'll be fine." His voice is low, hurried, with a slight tremble. He keeps glancing backwards.  
  
"Who's at the door?" I hear.  
  
Roger flinches.  
  
"A friend of Roger's."  
  
"It's almost 11! Bad enough he gets home later than I told him too, but now he's got friends dropping by?" I hear someone getting up.  
  
"Please, Mark, go!" Roger begs me. He moves to close the door but I push against it and he stops.  
  
"What is it, Rog? Why can't I come in?"  
  
"Go!" He pushes the door closed completely.  
  
"Who's that?"  
  
"No one, just a friend."  
  
"It's 11 o'clock! It's a school night!"  
  
"I know. That's why he's going." Roger emphasizes the 'going', knowing I'm probably still out here. I don't move.  
  
"Why are your friends coming over so late? And tell me again why you were late."  
  
"We were studying, I lost track of time."  
  
"Studying?" He snorts. "What were you really doing? Drinking? Shooting up? Fucking some girl?" Another snort. "Or some guy?"  
  
"Studying." Roger says again, his voice firm.  
  
"Is that punk still out there?"  
  
"No, he's gone."  
  
"Get out of the way." I hear Roger being pushed to the side and then move back. I hear a crack as skin hits skin.  
  
"Don't you come at me. I have half a mind to knock you out completely."  
  
The door is flung open and I try quickly to make it look like I was leaving.  
  
"Hey, get back here."  
  
I stop and turn back slowly.  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
"He's no one. It doesn't matter. Just let him go." Roger pleads with his father.  
  
"Don't tell me what to do. Answer me kid."  
  
"Mark." I say stupidly. "I'm Mark."  
  
"Who the hell is 'Mark'?"  
  
"I'm, uh," Roger is frantically shaking his head behind his father's back, mouthing 'no'. Stupidly, I ignore him. "I'm Roger's boyfriend."  
  
Roger falls against the wall, his body going completely limp. His father stares at me in silence.  
  
"You're what?"  
  
"Friend. I'm his friend."  
  
"I heard you right the first time I think." He grabs my arm and pulls me inside, and grabs Roger's arm as well. He pulls us up in front of Roger's mother.  
  
"Did you know about this? That my son's a queer?"  
  
His mom nods slowly. "Yes, I did. I don't understand what you're so upset about."  
  
He pushes me away. I see his grip on Roger's arm tighten. It's the arm with the already sore wrist.  
  
"Let him go, you're going to hurt him!" His mother yells, taking a step toward them. I wince and back away when he hits her. Roger pulls out of his father's grip and attacks him, attempting to take him down. He manages two good hits before his father grabs his sore arm and twists the wrist behind his back. Roger lets out an alien sounding scream of pain. He looks over at me, his eyes blurry with tears.  
  
"Get out, Mark. Just go. Please." He begs me one last time.  
  
I don't look back.  
  
I run.  
  
+++  
  
Notes Continued: aha! Perhaps a real cliffhanger? Lol. Poor Roger. I love him, so I torment him. 


	49. I Love Everything About You

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes: I must say, staticrader deserves some kind of prize for reviewing every chapter since she started reading this crazy story. Lol. Kudos to all my other devoted readers as well, especially any who have checked out my new story: No Need To Endure Anymore. I'm really starting to enjoy writing it, but I understand it's not for everybody. However, if you're feeling charitable, give it a chance. Without further ado, I present chapters 49 and 50. Thanks to those who review and my silent readers. I appreciate it.  
  
Chapter 49 -I Love Everything About You-  
  
+Roger's POV+  
  
Not a minute after we step off the bus I'm being crushed in a surprisingly strong hug from a woman I don't remember being quite so short. I wrap my arms around her as well. She cries into my shirt, holding me painfully tight. Finally she pulls back and looks up at me.  
  
"Jesus, you're taller!" She says in awe.  
  
I laugh shyly and look down at my hands.  
  
"Oh!" She says suddenly, looking past me. "I remember you! Oh honey, you didn't tell me you were bringing someone!" She gives me a swat on the arm and goes to hug Mark.  
  
"Look at you! Oh you're all grown up! And so handsome!" She gives him a kiss on the cheek while he blushes horribly. I smirk at his reaction and he scowls at me.  
  
"I can't believe you're still together. That's great, that's just great!" She gives Mark a playful smack too. "You didn't make him call me?"  
  
To my short lived relief Mark laughs, but I hear a bitter edge in it.  
  
"No one can really make Roger do anything."  
  
I glare at him but she doesn't even notice our disagreement. He glares back, but then I see his face soften and he reaches for my hand. I let him take it because I don't want to fight with him in front of my mom, but inwardly I want to push him away.  
  
"Well, come on." She says, starting to walk and wiping at her eyes. "I can't believe you're here."  
  
We follow her to her car, listening to her questions, occasionally answering a few when she gives us a second to talk. She drives back, chattering happily and I let her talk, trying to decide how best to tell her about my life. Or at least what's left of it. Mark looks over at me worriedly and rests his hand on my arm. Unlike before when I resented his contact I move my arm and let my hand slip into his. He knows what I'm thinking of. He kisses my cheek, leans against me. We don't say anything for the rest of the ride.  
  
+++  
  
"Roger, do you still drink coffee?" She calls from the kitchen.  
  
"Sure, mom."  
  
Mark casts another worried glance over at me when I sigh heavily and rest my head in my hands.  
  
"Hey Rog, you ok?" He asks, laying a hand on my back.  
  
I sit up, nodding.  
  
"Great, I'm great."  
  
When he won't stop I give him a false grin and pull him into my lap. I kiss him quickly and lay my head against his.  
  
"I'm fine, Marky. Don't worry so much."  
  
"Are you going to tell her?" He asks softly.  
  
"Tell me what?" My mom asks with a smile as she hands me a mug of coffee and Mark what smells like tea. He hastily climbs off of me but remains close at my side. I direct a glare over at him and he gives me a shamefaced smile in return.  
  
"Well, uh, mom. I have to tell you something." I say, running a hand through my hair. I was not ready for this yet. Completely unprepared. "It's uh, it's not good."  
  
Her smile fades a little. She sets down her mug.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
I sigh and look into my mug. I feel Mark take my hand.  
  
"I really messed up when I left." I say quietly. "I mean, I did a lot of stupid shit. Shit. I mean, I made a lot of mistakes." Inwardly I beat myself. No way I say it sounds good. But then again, it's not good, so why should it?  
  
She looks understanding so far, but raises an eyebrow. "Like what?"  
  
Shit. This is what she won't like. Who would? "Well, like, uh, with drugs."  
  
She glares at me. "Roger. . ."  
  
"I know, ok? I know! But I was stupid and I was lonely and I mean, that's no excuse but that's, well. . ." I shrug. "That's why."  
  
"What kind of drugs?" She asks me, still angry but her gaze has softened.  
  
I close my eyes. Feel Mark's grip tighten. "Like, heroin."  
  
"Heroin?" She asks, appalled. "You were using heroin?" She gives Mark a hard look. "It is 'was' right? Not anymore?" I'm hurt that she looks at Mark for verification, like I wouldn't tell her the truth. Mark nods. She looks back at me.  
  
"So you left here to be a drug addict? That's why you never called me? Why I didn't know where you were?"  
  
She's actually angry with me. I hadn't expected such a violent reaction. Disappointment though, sure. She keeps going, calling me irresponsible and chastising me for leaving in the first place. And Mark, how did it happen? How long? She keeps asking him, like I couldn't answer. Like I couldn't be trusted to answer.  
  
"Mom, I'm dying." I say loudly, forcing her to look me in the eye. She stops talking, staring at me for a long moment.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I said, I'm dying. Because I was a drug addict for 4 years, I have HIV, which will become AIDS, which will probably kill me before I'm 30!" I tell her, my voice rising against my will.  
  
"Roger, calm down." Mark says softly.  
  
My mother is staring at me in disbelief. "You have AIDS?" She asks.  
  
"Not yet, but I will eventually."  
  
She raises a hand to her mouth, her anger gone. "Oh baby. . ."  
  
She comes over and stands near me, wraps her arms around me. Warmth in that embrace, I've forgotten what it was like to have her around. Mark squeezes my hand.  
  
I start to tell her everything. Everything I told Mark, and everything that's happened since then. The time with April in our first apartment, finally giving into her and her drugs when my grief got to be too much, about April dying, her note, living on the street. Finding Mark again, withdrawal, his help. Leaving him, coming back, giving him up, wanting him back. Tell her about Mimi, who I still love, my little girl with the pretty eyes, sick like me. Tell her about Mimi leaving, how it was me and Mark again. Tell her about now.  
  
She kisses my cheek. "My baby. You've had it hard on your own."  
  
I like her babying significantly more than her criticism. Even though I know most if not all of this has been my fault, it's nice to have people like her that will occasionally let me be the victim.  
  
"I'm ok, right now though, mom. Really."  
  
"For a long time, yet." Mark assures her, himself, me.  
  
My beeper goes off.  
  
"Take your AZT." Mark says automatically as I go to shut it off. I move away from my mom just a little to reach the bag at my feet.  
  
"What's that?" She asks when I pull the bottle out.  
  
"AZT." I tell her. "Supposedly, it's what keeping me around."  
  
Mark gives me a dirty look for that one, but I just turn away and smile at my mom. I take one and shove the bottle back into my bag.  
  
+++  
  
"You two can stay in your old room." She says, smiling sadly. "I haven't touched anything, I promise. Just dust in there occasionally."  
  
"Alright." I kiss her on the cheek. "Night, mom."  
  
Almost immediately I fall down onto my mattress, covering my face with my hands. Mark sits on the mattress next to me.  
  
"How do you think that went?" I ask him, peering through the cracks between my fingers.  
  
He shrugs. "As good as can be expected." He says.  
  
I pull him down beside me and he snuggles up to my side, resting his head against my shoulder. At first he rests his hand on my stomach, but as we lay there in silence it starts to slide down my body. He rests it on my inner thigh, then slowly moves it up again.  
  
"What exactly are you initiating?" I ask him, grinning over at him.  
  
He kisses me slowly. "Only if you want to risk it."  
  
"Are you kidding?"  
  
Kiss. My arm goes around him, pull him on top of me. Run my hands down his back. He kisses my neck, nipping at the skin.  
  
"Make love to me, Marky. . ."  
  
"I know," He whispers. "You like it when I do. That's what you always say."  
  
Kiss. He pulls away and I watch him reach from the bed to retrieve something. Open the box, lays one on the bed, kisses me again. I pull his shirt over his head, he pushes his glasses back up his nose. Rests his hands on my sides, his hands warm, my skin feeling cold.  
  
I watch his body move over mine, touch my fingers against his abdomen. He takes one of my hands in his, our fingers locking together. He wraps his other hand around a more intimate part of my anatomy.  
  
"Hey," I say softly. "You really shouldn't do that without a condom."  
  
"Shut up." He says. "It doesn't matter."  
  
And later his breathing matches mine, hindered gasps, rough and soft. I grab his arm with my other hand, tighten my grip on the one he holds.  
  
He kisses me gently, lays down beside me and pulls my body against his.  
  
"I love you. All of you. I love everything about you."  
  
"Even when I'm an asshole?"  
  
He yawns. "Especially when you're an asshole."  
  
"Well in that case I love you too. Even when you follow me around with your stupid camera and force me to take my AZT."  
  
He laughs softly, moves closer. I feel my eyes closing.  
  
+++  
  
I open my eyes, suddenly hit with a strong feeling of nausea. I rush to the bathroom, collapse in front of the toilet. Don't open my eyes until I'm done. I'm disgusted by the fact that probably half of what I just threw up was blood. I wipe at my mouth quickly, see my shaking hand stained red. I clean myself, throw water on my face. I don't feel sick anymore. Not physically. I shake my head at my reflection, head back to bed, praying I didn't wake up mom or Mark. Just when things get good, I think. But that's ridiculous. I feel fine.  
  
+++  
  
Notes Continued: Don't hate me. I'm not gonna kill him or something. I don't think. . . ;) lol. Poor Roger. I love him so. Chapter 50, anyone? 


	50. I'm Not Gonna Leave You

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes: Now I love RENT more than I love most people, but 50 chapters worth of this nonsense? My goodness. . . what have I been doing this whole time?? I suppose if I want to make it easier on myself, it's actually more like two stories in one, so I suppose it's only been 25 chapters for each one. No wonder I'm doing so horrible in American History and Physics (despite the fact that they're both equally boring and pointless), all I do in them is write chapters for this!  
  
Ah, but it's worth it. ;) Enjoy!  
  
Chapter 50 -I'm Not Gonna Leave You-  
  
+Mark's POV+  
  
Roger isn't in school today. After second period I steal a room pass from an empty classroom and walk to the front lobby. I wave it at the guy watching the door.  
  
"Getting something from my car." I tell him.  
  
He waves me past and once I'm out I shove it in my backpack, could be useful again, and start walking in the direction of Roger's house. I don't get there till it's almost lunchtime. The car is gone and so is his mom's, so I don't hesitate to knock on the door. He doesn't answer it.  
  
"Roger?" I shout to an open window on the second floor. Not his, but maybe he can hear me. I knock on the door again, pounding loudly. Finally I hear him coming down the stairs. He doesn't open the door.  
  
"Roger?"  
  
"Go away, Mark. You shouldn't be here."  
  
"But no one's here. It's alright, let me in."  
  
He doesn't. I wish I could see him, but his door is solid, there's no window on it or anything. I lay my hand flat on it.  
  
"C'mon, Rog. It's me. It's alright." I say softly, but loud enough that he can hear me. Finally I hear the lock click and he hesitantly opens it a little bit.  
  
"Marky, you really shouldn't. . ."  
  
I push on the door gently. "Roger, open the door."  
  
Sighing he steps back and pulls the door open all the way. I step inside and drop my bag on the floor. I go to him and wrap my arms around his waist. He touches me gently, pushing me off him.  
  
"Roger. . ."  
  
"Really, Mark. That hurts."  
  
I let go of him and step away. He closes the door. I notice that it's dark in the house, all the drapes are closed, thick drapes that hide the light and he is bathed in shadow.  
  
"Are you. . ."  
  
"I'm fine, really. But you should go, Mark. I don't want you here right now."  
  
I cross my arms. "Well too bad! I just walked here from the fucking high school and I'm not fucking leaving until you tell me what the fuck is going on and why you're avoiding me!"  
  
Even in the darkness I can see him glaring at me, see his fists clench at his sides. "Isn't it obvious, Mark? My father came back." I see one of his hands go to his side quickly, his face contort into a subtle wince.  
  
I step towards him, reaching out, though he ignores it. "Roger, look, I'm sorry. Please. Whatever I did. . ."  
  
He pushes me backwards. "Why did you tell him, Mark?" He bellows. "I was telling you not to! Why him? Why out of anyone not to be worried about telling it was him?" He doubles over in pain, clutching at his stomach.  
  
"Roger, I'm sorry! I wasn't thinking!" I move towards him again. "What did he do to you?" I ask him in a hushed voice, finally getting close enough to touch him. I rest my hands on his sides, running them gently over his skin. He glares at me.  
  
"You can't just be sorry. . . you can't." He sniffs, wipes at his eyes angrily.  
  
"Roger. . ." I lay my head against his chest cautiously, not wanting to hurt him. He wraps his arms around me, pulls me to him in a hesitant and gentle embrace.  
  
I pull back a little, look up at him. "Let's get out of here, go to the city."  
  
He's shaking his head. "Can't, Mark. I can't go now. He's not like my mom, he'll kill me."  
  
"Stay with me. Stay with Maureen. You have to get out of here."  
  
"I can't leave her, Mark. He's worse to her."  
  
I watch the way walking hurts him, his sudden grabs at his stomach and raise an eyebrow.  
  
"Not like this, but, well, it's all in her head. I don't know. . ."  
  
"Emotional?"  
  
"Yeah, like emotional abuse. He'll yell at her and push her around and then an hour later he's apologizing and saying how he didn't mean any of it. And she falls for it every time. I can't leave her with him Mark."  
  
I shiver at the word abuse. I lay my hand on the side of his face but he winces and pulls away.  
  
"Don't. That hurts."  
  
"What doesn't hurt?" I ask him.  
  
He laughs bitterly. "Not much."  
  
I move close to him, kiss him gently on the lips. "Does that hurt?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Oh." I start to move away, but he catches me and pulls me back to him. He kisses me the same way, gentle and slow.  
  
"Yeah, but it doesn't matter."  
  
"Can we at least go upstairs? I feel bad making you stand like this if you hurt so bad."  
  
He shrugs but starts to walk towards the stairs, my hand in his as he pulls me after him. Upstairs he lies down on his mattress and I lay beside him.  
  
"What are you going to do?" I ask him.  
  
"Try to convince her to kick him out or leave again."  
  
"Leave again?" I ask him, nervously.  
  
He smiles at me and kisses my cheek. "Only if we have to. Don't worry, baby. I'm not gonna leave you."  
  
Even though he's got a black eye, a horrible looking bruise on his cheek, and a very painful looking cut on his lower lip he looks wonderful. I move closer to him, take his hand.  
  
"I love you."  
  
He smiles bitterly. "It's good to know someone does."  
  
+++  
  
Notes Continued: I was kind of going to add more, but this seemed like a good place to end a chapter, so end it I did. Maybe I should concentrate on making them longer so there aren't so damn many! Lol. Hope you've enjoyed. Hopefully I'll update again late on Monday. Kind of busy tomorrow. But you've gotten 50 chapters out of me you greedy children, so please don't be sore if it's not till Tuesday. ;) 


	51. The Beginning Of The End

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes: Sorry I couldn't post yesterday, I had to read some lame ass book for school. Here's two chappies to make up for it, still love me, right? ;)  
  
Chapter 51 -The Beginning Of The End-  
  
+Roger's POV+  
  
Mark wraps his arms around me from behind and kisses my neck.  
  
"Hey, are you alright? You look horrible today." He tells me.  
  
I roll my eyes. "Thanks."  
  
He turns me to face him, looking concerned. "Really, how are you feeling?"  
  
I push him away. "I'm fine, Mark. Stop it."  
  
He shakes his head and starts to walk out of the room. I grab his arm.  
  
"Wait, I'm sorry. Please?"  
  
He sighs heavily but lets me stop him. "Don't do this Roger. Don't push me away."  
  
"I'm not. I won't." I tell him. I take his hands and pull him to me. "I won't do that to you anymore."  
  
He kisses me quickly and gives me the same worried look one last time before he lets me pull him out the door and downstairs.  
  
"Holy fuck, real food!" Mark exclaims grabbing hard onto my arm when he sees a table full of early morning's finest, eggs, pancakes and a plate of bacon and sausage. I laugh at his reaction, but know I'm staring with the same hunger.  
  
"Oh good, you're up. I was just going to knock on your door." My mother says, smiling. "You two hungry?"  
  
I hug her quickly and kiss her on the cheek and Mark and I sit down to eat. She laughs gently watching us.  
  
"Do you boys eat ok out there?"  
  
"Not like this." I tell her.  
  
"You're both too skinny." She announces. "I don't know what you're eating, but you're not eating enough."  
  
I roll my eyes at her. "We're fine, mom. We just don't know how to cook."  
  
Mark looks offended. "I can use a toaster."  
  
"And I can use a fork. You can't cook Mark, get over it."  
  
He pouts at me. "You've never complained about my cooking before."  
  
"That's cause you don't cook. Quaker Oats does."  
  
My mom laughs at us and ruffles Mark's hair affectionately. "Poor dear."  
  
I lean over to kiss him but he pushes me away gently.  
  
"Brush your teeth first."  
  
"You've already kissed me today!"  
  
"I wasn't fully awake yet. My judgment was impaired."  
  
I grin at my mom who smiles sadly watching us. She looks older, significantly more somber. She still doesn't have many lines on her face, but even against her blonde hair I can see gray starting to form throughout it. Her eyes are tired, the lines at their corners the most prominent ones on her face, and the little bags developing beneath them make her seem older than she is. But she's still beautiful when she smiles.  
  
When we finish eating and start to go back upstairs I grab Mark and pull him against me in a tight embrace.  
  
"Aha! Morning breath!" I proclaim to him.  
  
Before he can protest I press my lips to his. He kisses me back, but soon enough pushes me away.  
  
"You're disgusting."  
  
I grin at him and hurry up the rest of the stairs.  
  
"I don't know why I put up with you." He says, shoving me at the top of the stairs. When he starts to walk away I grab his waist and pull him back to me. I kiss his neck, and that lovely corner of skin where neck meets shoulder. He sighs.  
  
"I love you." I tell him, my lips on his ear. I nip his lobe gently. "You're perfect and I love you."  
  
He lets out a low moan and lays his hands over mine. I start to tell him something else but pull away instead, coughing violently. It's a horrible, gagging sort of feeling that pulls me to the ground where I sit trying to control my breathing and body movement throughout. Mark kneels behind me and I feel his hands on my shoulders. He rubs my back gently, telling me that I'm all right. Finally the fit ceases and Mark pulls me against him and I fall back, exhausted and sore.  
  
"Are you alright?" He asks me softly.  
  
I nod wearily. I hear my mom coming up the stairs looking mortified.  
  
"Baby? What's wrong? Is he ok?" She asks, kneeling at my side.  
  
Mark kisses my head gently. "I think he's ok."  
  
"Honey, what's on your lip? Is that blood?" She reaches up to wipe at it but I push her hand away and do it myself. Sure enough, my lower lip is tinged with a thin layer of blood and I wipe at the trickle that begins on the side of my mouth. I can feel Mark's grip tightening.  
  
"You said you were fine, Roger." My mom says quietly, looking hurt. She strokes my hair. "Are you really?"  
  
Mark says nothing.  
  
I sigh. "Maybe not." I admit, closing my eyes.  
  
+++  
  
Before I open my eyes I know I'm in a hospital bed. I groan but it's stifled by the oxygen mask on my face. I'm alone in this room, and I must admit I'm rather scared. I have no idea what has happened or why I'm here. I look down at the tubes in my arms and shiver. More tracks to add to the collection. I hate this. I hate hospitals. I hate not knowing what they're doing to me and I hate not having Mark here. When the door opens a while later I see my mother. She smiles pathetically, and I know it's forced, she looks as though she's about to cry. I wonder what they've told her.  
  
"Hey." I say, forgetting the mask.  
  
She comes over next to the bed and takes it off for me. She leans over and kisses my forehead.  
  
"How are you?"  
  
"I feel like shit." I tell her weakly. "Where's Mark?"  
  
She bites her lip. "They won't let him in yet, baby."  
  
"Why the hell not?"  
  
"Don't get upset, you need to rest. We'll keep trying." In an effort to boost my morale perhaps, she changes the subject. "The doctor is going to come see you soon."  
  
"Great. Tell him I want to see Mark."  
  
"Roger. . ."  
  
"Or I'll just start pulling tubes out and then they'll have a lawsuit and you and Mark can be rich."  
  
"Behave." She tells me sternly, but she still gives me a sad, but wry smile. "I'll come back later, I'm only supposed to stay for a few minutes or they might not let me come back in. Don't do anything stupid, ok?"  
  
She kisses me again, places the oxygen mask back over my face and reluctantly leaves. A nurse comes in and changes a bag of fluid going into my arm. I watch her do it, wondering what the hell it is, and when she leaves I close my eyes.  
  
+++  
  
I wake up when I hear voices in the room. Slowly I open my eyes to see my mom talking with a doctor in low voices. Whoever's holding my hand tightens his grip. I look to my right and of course it's Mark, sitting beside the bed looking pained and relieved at the same time.  
  
"You scared me." He says softly, smiling at me. He touches my face gently. "Don't do that again."  
  
I gesture best as I can to the mask and he takes it off for me.  
  
"What happened?" I ask him.  
  
"You passed out, wouldn't wake up. Scared the hell out of us."  
  
"Good, you're awake." The doctor says, coming over to the bed. My mother looks heartbroken and I feel my stomach clench tightly.  
  
"What is it?" Not AIDS, not yet. It's too soon. By all means of logic I get a few more years. I look at Mark, oh God, not yet.  
  
"It's not what I'm sure you're thinking, yet." The doctor says. "But your T-Cells are at a dangerous low. I'm going to increase your dosage of AZT." He shrugs. "Be sure to take it, there's really nothing else to do." He talks to my mother for a few more minutes then leaves. Mark strokes my hair.  
  
"And you tried to tell me taking those was pointless." He tries to joke. His face falls quickly though. Even though it's not what I was dreading, low T-Cells are never good. Mark's worried, I can tell. More than worried, he's scared like me. This is really the first time he's seen me sick because of HIV. And I'm scared because crap like this, this is where it starts. A couple close calls, then full blown AIDS. And all it is after that is maybe a year's worth of hospital visits, doctors, denial, hope, acceptance. . . but always fear. Always a horrible sinking dread that the day will come when you look around at the hospital and think 'I want to go home' and then that's it. That's the acceptance. But even with that, I can't believe there's no fear. You're dying. I'm dying. This is it. I'm dying. I have to understand that, believe it, and prepare him for it because Mark looks like he's about to cry and I don't want him to break down every time I need to go to a hospital once he realizes what this is all about. The beginning of the end.  
  
I look down at his hand in mine and smile at him.  
  
"It'll be ok, Marky." I tell him. "You too, mom. Stop it. I'm fine. I'll be fine."  
  
How much longer am I going to keep fooling them and myself with that stupid lie?  
  
+++  
  
Notes Continued: See, not dead. I love him too much. He'll be out of the hospital next chappie and we'll have some fun then. ;) 


	52. We Have To Stand Up For The Cause

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes: Aw, little Marky and his crazy, tortured Roger are back! And so's Maureen. Fun in the cafeteria.  
  
And hey, we have a jukebox in OUR cafeteria. :P  
  
Chapter 52 -We Have To Stand Up For The Cause-  
  
+Mark's POV+  
  
I stare sadly at Roger's empty desk in Trig. He's missed a week of school now, I hope I'll be able to help him catch up before his grades suffer from it. I didn't see him at all over the weekend. He made it clear he didn't want me around while there was a chance his father would be there, and though I wanted to be there for him, for his safety and mine I decided to keep away. When the bell rings I meet Maureen by her locker and walk with her to study hall. She happily tells me about a solo she got in choir and I smile for her and congratulate her. She keeps talking for a while longer, about school in general and how horrible it is, which I nod and agree with, then she turns to look at me with a serious expression.  
  
"Where's Roger?" She asks me.  
  
I look over at her and try to hide my shock. "Oh. Uh, at home."  
  
She raises an eyebrow. "Isn't he supposed to be trying to pass? Why has he missed so much school?"  
  
"You noticed?"  
  
"Yeah, I usually work with him in history for partner stuff. He's hopeless at it, but he can be fun. He hasn't been here forever. What's up?"  
  
I shrug. "Stuff at home." I tell her.  
  
"Like what?"  
  
I sigh. "I don't think he'd want me to tell you."  
  
She narrows her eyes. "Why not?"  
  
"He didn't want to tell me, at first. Ask him when he gets back, if you want to know. Maybe he'll tell you then."  
  
"I will." She says stubbornly, then changes her tone. "I think it's cute."  
  
"What is?"  
  
"You and him."  
  
I blush. "Shut up Maureen."  
  
"No really! I do! You're just so. . ."  
  
"Not that I don't appreciate it, but will you shut up when we're in the hallway?"  
  
"Oh." She smiles apologetically. "Sorry."  
  
When I see her face I laugh slightly. She makes a face at me, laughs as well, and shoves me. I collide with another person, who curses at me, which makes us laugh harder.  
  
"I think I've missed you." I tell her.  
  
"Oh?" She says, surprised.  
  
"You know, like hanging out. I mean, I don't see you as much anymore."  
  
"Whose fault is that?" She asks.  
  
"Well, mine. You should hang out with me and Roger. . ." I stop when I see her face. "What?"  
  
"Marky, not that I don't like Roger, cause I do. But I can't compete with him for you. When it's the three of us you hardly pay attention to me and you know it." When I protest she gives me a look. "Don't play dumb, it offends me."  
  
"It offends you?" I ask sarcastically.  
  
"Yeah. Like that girl's outfit!" She yells loudly, pointing at a popular girl who gives her the finger.  
  
"You wish!" Maureen yells.  
  
"Mo, stop it." But I'm laughing.  
  
We reach the cafeteria where our senior/junior study hall is. We take a table in the back and spread our junk over it so no one will sit by us. We talk for a few minutes, Maureen makes fun of some random girls at a table near ours and then she casts a glance over at the dusty jukebox by the vending machines.  
  
"Hey, Marky. You got any quarters?"  
  
I dig into my pocket and come up with two. She grabs them from me and hurries over to it. One guy sees her go and groans. She scans the track list briefly and then shoves the money in the slot. She runs back to the table and pushes our stuff on the floor.  
  
"What are you doing?" I ask her and she climbs on the table. She holds out her hands.  
  
"C'mon Marky, dance with me!" I roll my eyes and try to protest but she pouts at me so I grab her hands and step up beside her.  
  
-You put the boom boom into my heart. You send my soul sky high when your lovin' starts-  
  
"Oh Jesus! Mo you're killing me!" I say as she starts pulling me into a sloppy sort of swing dance that I stumble through. "It's WHAM!"  
  
"What's sadder?" She asks. "That I'm playing it or that you recognize it?"  
  
-wake me up, before you go-go. Don't leave me hanging on like a yo-yo-  
  
I blush and shut up, allowing her to humiliate me. The study hall teacher comes over and asks us to get off of the table.  
  
"You can't harness us forever! We must break free of your primitive social standards!" Maureen exclaims, releasing me and throwing her arms up. I start to get down but she grabs my arm.  
  
"You can't back down, Marky! We have to stand up for the cause!"  
  
I roll my eyes, but stand beside her staring down the teacher. What the hell? We're already outcasts.  
  
+++  
  
Though I'm listening to Maureen talk excitedly about our 'protest' during study hall as we walk, I'm really thinking mostly about Roger. Maybe I should go over there, even though he told me not to. I haven't heard from him since the last time I saw him, and I'm afraid to call. I suppose if his mom answered the phone I could ask her how he was, but if his father did all I could do was hang up. Maybe it's worth a try at least. Best of all situations, Roger could pick it up, though I don't think he would. A masculine voice floats over Maureen's, a car horn follows it. Maureen smacks me in the arm and I see Roger's car by the curb. I hurry toward it excitedly, but he's already out of it. I wrap my arms around his waist and hold him tightly, not caring that we're outside in broad daylight.  
  
"Where have you been? Are you ok?" I ask him, breathless.  
  
He laughs, kisses my forehead. His eye still looks a little swollen and dark, as does the bruise on his cheek, but he seems happy. And he didn't wince when I hugged him. I reach for his hands and realize I'm not touching skin on his right hand. I look down to see what I think is a cast.  
  
"What the fuck! He broke your arm?" I ask him.  
  
He shakes his head. "Sprained my wrist. It'll be fine." He says dismissively. "I can't play my guitar for another week or so though, and I'm really not supposed to be driving, but I had to find you!" He pulls me close to him, whispers in my ear. "When he sprained my wrist my mom had a fucking fit, she thought he broke it. She practically threw him out herself! Told him she'd call the police if he ever came back. She's never stood up to him like that before." He pulls away, smiles down at me. "I think that's it. She doesn't want him around anymore, I don't think he's coming back this time."  
  
I kiss him lightly, quickly. "That's great! That's awesome, for both of you!" I pick up his wrist. "But this, does it hurt?"  
  
He shakes his head. "Not really. Unless I try to do something that involves a lot of. . . Hey Maureen. I didn't see you before."  
  
She comes up behind me, pouting. "Yeah, ignore me, nice." She sees his arm. "Oh, you're hurt! Want me to kiss it better?"  
  
Roger winks at me, holds out his arm. "Be my guest."  
  
She puckers and plants a kiss on his brace, leaving a lipstick print. He laughs and grins at her.  
  
"Feels tons better. How do you do it?"  
  
"Just the magic of Maureen!" She strikes a pose and pouts at us suggestively.  
  
"Mo," He says, still laughing. "Anyone ever tell you you're out of your fucking mind?"  
  
+++  
  
Despite her earlier protests, Maureen decides to spend the night with me and Roger at his house. Although from the looks of it, she had brought her entire John Hughes collection. It looked as though we were in for a night of Molly Ringwald and her badly dressed 80s friends. Roger groaned when he saw the cassettes.  
  
"You're killing me!"  
  
"Oh shut up! These are classics! Right Marky?"  
  
"Sure." I say, turning my camera from Roger's doubtful face to her exuberant one. She blows a kiss at the camera and I zoom in on her for a moment, then out again and turn it back on Roger.  
  
He looks exhausted. His face is both tired and sad but at the same time content. He takes my hand with his not injured one and pulls me next to him. He sits on the far end of the couch, I sit beside him in the middle. When Maureen comes back from slipping Sixteen Candles into the VCR she sits beside me. Roger puts his arm around me and I lean against him. He kisses my forehead and tilts his head to the side to rest on top of mine. She makes a face at us.  
  
"Cute, but in moderation. Are you always like this?"  
  
"No. We're doing it just to annoy you."  
  
"Great." She crosses her arms and moves away. I reach out and pull her against me. She struggles at first, but then settles and wraps an arm around me and gets comfortable. Roger falls asleep not even halfway through the first movie and I join him soon after. Sometime later I hear Maureen reach for the remote and shut the TV off. We'll all be rather sore when we wake up, but for now it's a great moment.  
  
+++  
  
Notes Continued: Aw, I love Molly Ringwald. I'm such a loser for 80s teen movies. ;) Be back soon children. :P 


	53. I Don’t Want To Leave You

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes: Horrible week, I apologize for the wait. Hope I didn't send you into withdrawal, staticrader. ;)  
  
Chapter 53 -I Don't Want To Leave You-  
  
Roger's POV (one month later)  
  
I hug my mom tightly. She kisses me sadly, frowning at the two of us.  
  
"You really have to leave?" She asks.  
  
"Mom, we've been here a month!" I tell her gently.  
  
"We've got rent to not pay." Mark jokes.  
  
She smiles at us. "Are you sure you don't need any. . ."  
  
"We're fine." We say in unison.  
  
We might've stayed longer. It wasn't exactly hard to get used to living with her again. Not having to worry about basically anything relating to real life, or rent, or where we'd find money to pay for food or my AZT was nice. But we realized we'd never told anyone where we were going or that we were going at all when Mark called Maureen to check in. She yelled at him for a full five minutes before I wrested the phone from him. Her and Collins and even Joanne were apparently worried shitless, not knowing where we were. We realized how long we'd been away and decided to promise Maureen we'd be home a few days later so Mark could help Joanne with the setting up of another of her protests.  
  
She hugged Mark as well, kissing his cheek when she let him go.  
  
"Be good." She tells us. "And you, Roger Davis, are going to call me!"  
  
I grin at her. "Sure, mom."  
  
"Roger. . ."  
  
"I will, I promise. I'll call."  
  
"Take care of him." She tells Mark sadly.  
  
He smiles. "I always do."  
  
She hugs me again. "God knows he can't do it himself."  
  
Though offended, I can't help but inwardly agree.  
  
"Sure you don't want to visit your parents before we go?" I ask him as we get on the bus. I grin at him when he glares at me.  
  
"Fuck off."  
  
"Don't you want to hear all about Cindy's new baby?" I nudge him. "And be asked why you don't have one?"  
  
He punches me in the arm and I laugh at him.  
  
"And sip chardonnay in your parlor?"  
  
"They're not that rich." He says, taking a seat. I sit beside him and lay my head on his shoulder, curling my body around his. He puts an arm around me and I close my eyes.  
  
"Did you take your AZT?" He asks.  
  
"Shit, no. I forgot." I say apologetically.  
  
"Roger!"  
  
"I know, I know." I mutter, pulling away and reaching in my bag.  
  
"You can't forget anymore, Rog." He says, quietly.  
  
"You didn't remind me."  
  
"I shouldn't have to remind you! You should care more than you do!"  
  
"Hey, I care!"  
  
He rolls his eyes. "You don't act like you do."  
  
"How do you want me to act, Mark? What do you want me to do?"  
  
"Stop denying what's happening to you! You're the only one that doesn't seem to notice you're sick! You think I'm the one that needs help accepting it, but I did that a long time ago. But how long were you feeling bad before we actually took you to the hospital? Are you trying to kill yourself? Why can't you just admit you need help?"  
  
I take my AZT and shove the bottle back in the bag.  
  
"Fuck you."  
  
"Stop it, Roger. Talk to me."  
  
I glare at him. "You don't understand! You don't get it and you never will! I don't want to think about it! I don't want to have to deal with it! Would you? If you knew you were dying would you want that as the focal point in your life?"  
  
He says nothing but looks away and slowly shakes his head. As an answer or at my behavior I don't know. I sigh and reach for his hand.  
  
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't pretend it's not happening, but I mean it when I tell you I don't want to think about it." I look up at him slowly. "I need you though, I'll admit that."  
  
"You've never needed me." He says sadly.  
  
"I've always needed you."  
  
As soon as we get inside the loft I watch Maureen crush Mark in an enthusiastic embrace, if you could call it that. I laugh when he groans but when she kisses him I all but growl at her.  
  
"What's been up your ass? You're such a bitch lately." She scoffs, glaring at me. Feeling my mouth twitch into a smile I start laughing. Mark smacks me in the chest, but I only laugh harder, not really remembering what was funny.  
  
"What'd you do to him?" Maureen asks in awe, watching my hysterics.  
  
"Well," Mark says awkwardly.  
  
She claps her hands together. "You're together again! I knew it! Collins, you owe me a dollar!"  
  
Collins comes out of the kitchen. "You owe me a dollar, Maureen. You said your Marky would never waste his time on that crazy junkie again."  
  
I glare at her and she smiles shyly.  
  
"It was before I knew you as a person?" She offers.  
  
I roll my eyes and hold out my arms and she hugs me and kisses me quickly on the cheek.  
  
"Is Joanne here too?" Mark asks her. Maureen shakes her head. "Not yet. She'll be here after work."  
  
"Are you staying?" He asks Collins looking hopeful. To our relief he nods.  
  
"Yeah. Got here about a week ago. I'm staying for a while." He gives me a strong pat on the shoulder. "Good to see you, Rog."  
  
"Roger." I correct him automatically. "You too."  
  
"How've you been?" He asks. "How's Mimi?"  
  
I cringe. I hadn't thought about her in a while and feel guilty because of it. I shrug and turn away.  
  
"Haven't seen her."  
  
Mark senses my mood and changes the subject.  
  
"Any performances lately, Mo?"  
  
"That we've been fortunate enough to miss?"  
  
She smacks my arm.  
  
"Unfortunate! Horrible we weren't here, really!"  
  
She laughs at me. "Oh I've missed you!" She kisses my cheek again. "I'm sorry I'm such a bitch."  
  
Mark pouts. "You never apologize to me for being a bitch."  
  
"Because you take it." I tell him. "And I don't think we'd have her any other way." I say, smiling at her fondly.  
  
Maureen starts talking to Mark about her protest next week and what she wants him to do. Collins asks me about drugs and I shrug and tell him I'm clean. Mark wouldn't be with me if I wasn't.  
  
"How've you been, health wise?" he asks softly.  
  
I shrug again. "They upped my dosage." I tell him. I sigh. "Whatever. It doesn't matter."  
  
He narrows his eyes at my lack of concern but says nothing.  
  
Joanne comes up later with two large cheese pizzas. She kisses Maureen quickly, then hurries to set them down on the table. I take a small piece, but I'm not really in the mood to eat. I stare at it for a moment then sigh and force it down quickly. All this shit has sort of killed my appetite in the past few weeks. Joanne looks hurt when I get up to leave.  
  
"Not hungry, Roger?" She asks.  
  
I shrug. "Sorry. I guess I'm just not."  
  
I can feel Mark watching me as I retreat to our room. A minute later he's sitting next to me on the bed. He lays his hands on my shoulders.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
I shrug. "I don't know. I'm not hungry."  
  
He sighs. "Roger, you're never 'not hungry'. It's something else."  
  
"I don't know, Mark!" I close my eyes and try to calm myself down. Finally I open my eyes and look over at him hesitantly.  
  
"Don't get pissed, alright?"  
  
He nods.  
  
"I was just," I sigh. "I was thinking about Mimi."  
  
His expression doesn't change.  
  
I sigh again. "And about all this, about being sick. I just, I don't want to leave you." I say sadly.  
  
"Roger," He says gently. "You've got plenty of time." He moves closer. I push him away.  
  
"That's what you're denying, Mark!" I say furiously. "I don't!"  
  
"Calm down."  
  
"Fuck you."  
  
I hear him get up angrily. "Fine. Find Mimi, die together. I'm sick of your shit, Roger!"  
  
He leaves the room and I hear him being consoled by the others. I lay back on the bed. I don't want to fight with him like this. I close my eyes. And I don't really want to be back with Mimi. I just want to know she's all right. She told me she'd call. She asked me if she could. She'll call, so I can watch her die. Suddenly I'm very sorry for yelling at Mark. If I want anyone to be with me I have to stop all this shit. Mark is very tolerant, but even he won't put up with me sometimes. And everyone else, they just shake their heads and wonder at how he does it.  
  
I pull myself off the bed and cautiously open the door. Mark is sitting by himself looking very put out. Maureen is trying to get him to smile but she's failing miserably so I step out of the room and go to him. Maureen glares at me but I ignore her.  
  
"Mark?" I say softly. When he doesn't look at me I take his hand. "Marky, c'mon look at me."  
  
I entwine my fingers with his. "I'm sorry, ok? I didn't mean it. You know I didn't."  
  
"You never do." He says sadly.  
  
I drop his hand angrily. "Well what about you? You and Mimi can die together? Did you mean that?"  
  
He shakes his head but says nothing. I hate that he's making me say this in front of everyone. I take a deep breath and try to control myself. Usually that helps, he's more understanding if I'm not yelling at him.  
  
"I'm sorry. I can only say it so many times, Mark."  
  
He glares at me. "Well say it again!"  
  
"I'm sorry!"  
  
He lowers his gaze, everyone else watches us like we're a fucking soap opera. I try to ignore that they're there. I take Mark's hands in mine, kiss his forehead gently.  
  
"I love you. I know I fuck up a lot, but I love you. And you love me. That's enough, isn't it?"  
  
He smiles sadly, coming around. "I hope so."  
  
I try to ignore the clapping that Maureen starts when I kiss him gently.  
  
Notes Continued: Sorry again for the wait, and for making them fight. It's kind of fun, and I think it's sort of necessary. Well anyway, join me for chappie 54! 


	54. Don't Do This To Me

Notes: I hated writing this chapter. You'll see why.  
  
A number of reviews back, Mistress Flame made a comment about the parallel in the story, that usually when something bad happens in high school, something good follows in the 'present' day and vice versa. It's true, that's how I've tried to balance this story out and why I like it so much. And that will carry through eventually in the end. ;) thanks for reading/reviewing.  
  
Chapter 54 -Don't Do This To Me-  
  
Mark's POV  
  
I hold Roger's hand tightly. He notices and pulls me into a gentle embrace.  
  
"Are you alright? We don't have to do this?"  
  
I shake my head. "I can't. I can't go in, Rog. Don't make me."  
  
He laughs softly. "I told you we didn't have to, I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to. We'll go hang out somewhere else."  
  
I nod at him and pull him away from the school. He puts his arm around my shoulders and leads me back to his car. Neither one of us dressed up anyway, and neither of us really wants to pay the twenty dollars per couple to get in the school gym for an evening.  
  
"I'm sorry." I say when we're in the car. "I just can't."  
  
"It's alright. I told you we didn't have to go. I'm glad you told me."  
  
"I'm not ready for that." I tell him, trying to come up with a good explanation to why I just wussed out of going to prom.  
  
He pulls me over to him. "Marky, relax. No one says you have to be." He kisses my cheek. "We're leaving, it's alright."  
  
He drives out of the parking lot and back out onto the main road. "Where do you want to go?" He asks me.  
  
I shrug. "Doesn't matter."  
  
He drives in the direction of the highway and I know he's taking me to the city. I move closer to him and rest my head on his shoulder. When I open my eyes again he's shaking me to wake up.  
  
"C'mon, get up." He smirks. "Don't make me carry you."  
  
"Would you?" I ask, yawning.  
  
"Oh come on." He pulls on my arms and I stumble out of the car and into him. He steadies me and lays a quick, gentle kiss on my lips. I force myself to smile at him and allow him to take my hand and he leads me inside.  
  
In our room he lays on the bed and I lay against him. He wraps his arms around me.  
  
"I'm sorry." I say again. He tries to deflect me again but I stop him. "I just can't. I don't know, I thought I'd be ok, but I'm not."  
  
"Marky. . ."  
  
I pull myself out of his arms. "Not just about prom."  
  
"What do you mean, then?"  
  
"I can't do this anymore."  
  
"Do what?" I hear a bitter edge creeping into his voice.  
  
"Roger," I sigh and bite my lip, trying to keep the fear of what he's going to say out of my voice. "You're great, you know, but. . ."  
  
He sits up and glares at me. "But what?"  
  
I say nothing and trace my finger over the ugly pattern on the bed.  
  
"What, dammit?" He yells and I cringe.  
  
"We can't be together, Rog. We can't."  
  
I hear his intake of breath. "Why not?"  
  
"I thought I was going to be ok with this, but I'm not. And if I don't think I'm going to. . ."  
  
"Ok with what? Us? Being in public? Is that what you mean? Jesus, Mark. Fucking talk to me!"  
  
I recoil and pull my hands together and wrap them around my stomach. "Think about it, Roger. If I can't handle anyone knowing, how are we supposed to get along? I'm sorry. I just, I can't do that to you."  
  
"You're going to do this to me instead?" He stands up angrily. "Dammit! Mark I told you it was fine! I told you it's all right that you're not comfortable in public yet. I can handle that! You don't have to do this!"  
  
"What if it's not something I'm going to get over eventually? What if it's always going to be like that? Do you want that? I don't want you to have that. I want. . ."  
  
"Don't tell me what you want for me, Mark! I can tell you what I want." He kneels by me. "And I want you. Even if I'm the only one that knows. I love you. Please, don't do this to me."  
  
I sniff and blink away the tears I feel forming. I'm breaking his heart, I know, and it's killing me. But all my former suspicions and reluctance came back full force tonight standing outside of the gym. I couldn't imagine going in with him. I didn't want anyone to see us, or see me. I should have known well enough at the beginning that I couldn't handle this pressure. And even though Roger thinks he's helping and thinks that he's understanding, I feel pressured. I hear the disappointment in his voice or see it in his eyes when I reject his advances in public. And I hate that I do that to him. I hate that I'm hurting him now. Seeing the fear and the pain in his eyes now, I look away. Is this really for the best or am I fooling myself again?  
  
"Please, Marky." I hear his voice getting heavy. He takes my hands. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. Don't leave me. I can't take it. Don't leave me."  
  
I can't remain stoic, I start to cry and he pulls me to him in a desperate embrace. I wrap my arms around him, bury my face in his shoulder and sob uncontrollably. I think I frighten him a little and he rubs my back gently and allows me to hold him tightly.  
  
"I love you." His voice a quiet hum against my ear. "I really mean it when I tell you that, Mark. I love you."  
  
"I know." I tell him. "And I love you too, but. . ."  
  
"No." He says stubbornly, pushing me away from him, but leaving his hands gripping tightly to my arms. "Don't, Mark. Please. You don't have to. You're not hurting me by being with me. Never. But you will hurt me if you do this." He sniffs and blinks a few times. "What we have is worth it, trust me. It's worth anything we have to sacrifice and anything we have to work to maintain. It's worth it."  
  
I let him pull me back against him and I know he just talked me out of breaking up with him. I hold him tightly and try to forget my fears, but I know I'm only burying them. He pulls back and kisses me gently, and I taste salt from my tears and from the ones he's just starting to shed. I open my mouth to him and he deepens the kiss, but it retains the hesitant, tender feeling it began with. I lay back on the bed and he closes the space between us, laying his head on my chest. I stroke his hair gently and he's asleep soon afterwards, his arms around my waist. I close my eyes too, hating myself for making him hurt.  
  
"I'm sorry." I whisper to his sleeping form.  
  
(a week later)  
  
I wait for him outside of the school. Finally he emerges, his hands in his pockets, upset and angry. I walk up to him, but he hardly notices me. He goes to his car, and I hurriedly get into the passenger seat before he can leave without me. We drive for a minute in silence before I get the courage to ask him what's wrong. It takes him a while to answer.  
  
"They're holding me back a year." He says angrily. "I'm not graduating."  
  
"But," I say in shock. "You've worked really hard! You're passing everything!"  
  
"It doesn't matter. They think I need another year to 'prepare for college'. Well fuck college, I wasn't going anyway."  
  
"They can't flunk you, Roger! They can't!"  
  
"Well, they're going to." He scoffs. "I'm staying in high school next year."  
  
As horrible as I feel that Roger has to repeat a year, I'm guilty of being glad of it. A huge part of my worries about where we would be when he graduated are solved. He's not going anywhere until I am. I move over to him and rub his shoulder gently.  
  
"There's nothing you can do?" I ask him quietly.  
  
He shakes his head. "No, except drop out."  
  
"Don't." I tell him. "Please, don't."  
  
"Why the fuck not? I don't need this shit anyway."  
  
I sigh. "Roger, I don't doubt you're going to be some famous rock star someday, but in case you're not, or you blow all your money on beer and hookers like they all do, you're going to need a diploma. Please don't drop out."  
  
"Beer and hookers?"  
  
"I'm serious, Roger. I think it's unfair you have to be here another year too, but just stick it out and graduate. Please."  
  
He sighs. "Well, we've got a summer to have fun, anyway." He says reluctantly, unconvincingly.  
  
I kiss his cheek. "Don't be so happy about it." I tell him sarcastically.  
  
"Look, I'm just going to take you home, ok? I sort of want to be alone."  
  
"Take me to Maureen's." I tell him. "I haven't done anything with her alone in a while."  
  
He does and I kiss him gently before I get out of the car.  
  
"It'll be alright, Rog. I promise. But please don't do anything stupid, ok?"  
  
He nods and gives me a half-assed smile before he drives away. I watch his car go until I hear an excited squeal and Maureen jumps on my back.  
  
"Oh Marky! You're here! Alone!" She says happily. "Not that when you're with Roger is bad, but. . ."  
  
"I know, Maureen, it's alright."  
  
She pulls me inside. "You're just in time, I was just going to start practicing my frog protest."  
  
"Your frog protest?"  
  
"Remember? I said we should protest cutting up poor defenseless frogs in biology classes? Well bio classes are doing that tomorrow and I'm going to go to go to them all and protest!"  
  
"Won't you be cutting all of your other classes?"  
  
"So? Marky this is for a cause!"  
  
She eyes my camera. "You can tape it, to preserve the memories!"  
  
I smile reluctantly.  
  
"Well since you're here and you're got that I'm going to put my costume on and everything! Dress rehearsal!" She starts to go upstairs.  
  
"Maureen can I talk to you? Like, really talk?"  
  
"I need to practice, Marky. Afterwards."  
  
Knowing 'afterwards' could mean anywhere from 5pm to midnight or even not at all, I sigh and make myself comfortable on the couch. One of the best things about Roger is that he'll make it a priority to talk to me if I need him. It was always one of the worst things about Maureen. Since I've been with him I never feel lonely, or that no one understands, because I know he does. He may not understand everything about school, people, or life but he understands me.  
  
And no one else ever has.  
  
Notes Continued: Unfortunately I see an end in sight for this story. I'm going to drag it out as long as possible, but it's inevitable. Sorry! It is fun to go back and reread old chapters though, even for me, especially if you just pick one at random. So I recommend that for anyone who'll experience withdrawal symptoms associated with this story ending. Lol. The other matter is I've focused on this story completely for what, three months now? I'll get another epic going soon after, but I've got other shorter things I want to write too. Well thanks for reading/reviewing, I'll be back soon. Hopefully sooner than my last few updates have been. ;) 


	55. There's Going To Be A Day When

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes: I now use a line of periods to determine breaks in time because apparently the little pluses I was using before don't work anymore. They didn't show up last chappie. Oh well. This chappie starts out morbid, gets happy, then gets morbid again. All in all it's fucking crazy. Thanks for reading/reviewing! ;)

Only one chappie today, sorry! :)  
  
Chapter 55 -There's Going To Be A Day When. . .-  
  
Roger's POV  
  
I run my fingers through his hair, kiss his forehead. His brow furrows and he moves slightly but doesn't wake. I smile to myself. He's really fucking cute when he sleeps. I lay back down next to him, pull his body back against mine. His breath is warm against my chest, the light dim outside, it's really early morning. I kiss him again and close my eyes.  
  
I'd never been in love before him, how could I, I was seventeen. And it's comforting, in a slightly morbid way, to know there won't be anyone after him. I'll die loving him. I won't have to worry about whether or not my life will go on without him because he'll always be there.  
  
But I won't.  
  
I open my eyes and frown down at him. This is so fucking hard. What we had was so God damn perfect, then I fucked it up by leaving him. It's perfect again, it always is with him, but it's going to end eventually. Will there be someone after me?  
  
As much as I want him to be happy, and to find someone else to love, at the same time I'm selfish. I don't want to think about him loving someone else. What if he loves them more? Then I think, that's ridiculous, how could he? But then I'm selfish for denying him that.  
  
He'll ask me eventually, it's inevitable. There's always that conversation. You're dying, can I love again? Give me permission so I won't feel guilty. Tell me it's all right for life to go on cause at this point I don't think it will.  
  
Shit. I can't think about this. I can't handle it. Fine, call me fucking selfish. I love him and he loves me and why can't this fucking last forever?  
  
What if he forgets me?  
  
Stop crying over it. Appreciate it now or you'll regret it later. I blink and touch his face gently. But I don't want to die.  
  
He stirs finally, smiles at me sleepily.  
  
"Hey, what's wrong?" He asks, sitting up, concerned. "You ok, Rog?"  
  
I try to nod but just pull away from him and turn away. I feel his hands on my shoulders and then his lips pressed softly onto my neck. I can't bring myself to push him away.  
  
"What is it?" He asks me in a gentle voice.  
  
I shake my head. "I can't do this, Mark! Knowing there's going to be a day when. . ."  
  
"Don't think about it, Rog. You said you didn't want to think about it. Accept it, know it's going to happen, but stop dwelling on it." He kisses my neck again, wraps his arms around my waist and holds me tightly.  
  
"Yeah," I sniff. "Plenty of time, right?"  
  
I know he smiles. "Plenty of time."  
  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
  
He gets up a few minutes later, but I fall back asleep alone. When he bangs on my door the broken clock that's three hours fast tells me it's 1:23pm, so it's around 10:23am. I groan and try to ignore him but he comes in and pokes me a few times.  
  
"C'mon, Rog. Wake up. It's 10:30."  
  
"Fuck off."  
  
"I love that you're a morning person." He says wryly, sitting on the bed next to me.  
  
"It's one of my best qualities." I mumble into the pillow.  
  
Mark laughs softly. "I hope not. By these standards that would make you a fairly disagreeable person."  
  
When I move my head to tell him off I don't see him, but the familiar camera-face. I push it away.  
  
"Dammit, Mark! Don't film me when I'm just waking up!"  
  
He lowers the camera slightly and smiles shyly at me. "But you look really sexy when you're just waking up."  
  
Resisting the urge to bury my head back beneath the pillow I yawn and sit up slowly. "I'm always really sexy."  
  
"It's nice to know your ego isn't getting the best of you."  
  
"Make me breakfast." I command, yawning again.  
  
He rolls his eyes. "You are perfectly capable of pouring your own damn bowl of cereal. But since I've already done it for you, you have to get out of bed."  
  
"Why don't you just stay here? It's really warm." A third yawn. "And I'm sexy."  
  
"It's hard to say what quality is worse. Your ego, your sex drive or your inability to wake up at a reasonable hour."  
  
"It's 10:30! I've got a few more hours before I'm considered officially lazy."  
  
"You're going to be that anyway. I'll be in the kitchen with Collins whenever you decide to move your sexy ass out of bed."  
  
He kisses my forehead and giving me one last irritated look, he leaves. I flop back onto my back and cross my arms, determined to wait a few more hours, but I get bored quickly and as I'm no longer in the mood for sleep I grudgingly climb out of bed and pull on some pants.  
  
In the kitchen Collins gives me an approving wink over my lack of a shirt. I roll my eyes and grab the bowl I figured Mark set out for me. However, after I take the first spoonful I drop the spoon back in the bowl in disgust.  
  
"It's. . . soggy!" I whine when Mark comes back into the kitchen.  
  
"Not my fault. It wasn't when I poured it for you."  
  
"If you hadn't taken your sweet ass time getting up it would still be fine."  
  
"Oh fuck both of you. How was I supposed to know you were going to put milk in it? We never have milk!" I take another spoonful. "Why do we have milk?"  
  
"Collins donated to our grocery fund." Mark says, grinning at us both.  
  
"Rewiring ATMS again?"  
  
He winks but doesn't say anything.  
  
"We've got a lot of food for a while." Mark says, motioning to the cabinets.  
  
I nod and take another spoonful. Mark wraps his arms around my waist while I'm swallowing. I cough slightly and give him a playful glare.  
  
"Trying to get rid of me?"  
  
Realizing I'm joking he grins at me and lays his hands on my sides, pulling me closer to him.  
  
"And go back to jacking off in the bathroom? Fuck no."  
  
I lean over slightly and kiss him. I almost drop the bowl when his hands move down my back and grab hold of my ass. I set the bowl down and pull him up against me. He lays his head on my chest and I kiss his head and hold him close for a few minutes. I realize Collins isn't in the room anymore, I don't remember seeing him leave.  
  
"I think we scared Collins away." I joke.  
  
"Scared Collins?" He asks, looking up. "How? By being overtly gay?"  
  
"Or overtly us in general." I kiss him again. He smiles, lets his hands run over my bare chest.  
  
"This is a good look for you."  
  
"Every look is a good look for me."  
  
He snorts. "I doubt it. Somehow I don't think you're going to look too hot in a mini skirt."  
  
"But I've got such great legs!"  
  
"You've got great everything, but I don't think a mini skirt, or any skirt really, would properly accentuate your features."  
  
"Stick to the tight pants is what you're saying."  
  
He laughs. "Well, yeah. Of course."  
  
The phone rings. We both turn to stare at it.  
  
"Speak."  
  
"Roger?" Small, timid cough. "Um, Roger are you there? It's. . ."  
  
I move away from Mark and pick it up before she says anymore.  
  
"Mimi?"  
  
I see Mark sullenly shove his hands in his pockets and back away.  
  
"Roger? Hey," That same little cough. "Um, how are you?" She asks, her voice weak and soft.  
  
"Fine. No, good. I'm good. Are you. . . ok?" I ask her quietly, crossing my fingers on the hand that hangs down at my side.  
  
"Well," Cough, swallow. "Well, not really." She's silent for an awkward moment. "Can you spare a day, or two?"  
  
A day or two? Holy fuck. This is not it. It can't be happening.  
  
"For what, little girl?" I ask her gently, trying to play dumb. Please no.  
  
"I'm not doing so," Cough, painful little gasp of a swallow this time. "So, well."  
  
I close my eyes. "Are you in the hospital?"  
  
I hear her quiet yes and I know this is it. I know. Shit. I want to throw the phone down, back away and forget it. Someone takes the phone from her and talks mostly in Spanish. I catch a couple of English words, enough to figure where the hospital is, and then she hangs up. Carefully I set down the phone, pull myself up on the table and sit there staring at it.  
  
Mimi's dying.  
  
In a few days Mimi is going to be dead.  
  
And in a few years? Months? So will I.  
  
I hear Mark come back in the room. He sets his camera down on the table next to me. I sense the Mimi-presence he gets whenever I talk about her. He doesn't know about my promise to her.  
  
"What did she want?" He asks as nicely as he can.  
  
"She wants me to go visit her. In the hospital." I stare at the phone, still.  
  
"Oh."  
  
Is that all you can say? My Mimi is dying! I close my eyes and clench my fists at my sides.  
  
"I have to go see her Mark. I promised her. I promised her if she called I'd go see her."  
  
"If you have to."  
  
"I do!" I don't mean to yell.  
  
"Whatever, Roger." He says quietly, picking up his camera again and leaving. I get up and go to my guitar case, pull out the last bit of money my mother shoved in there without my knowledge, despite our refusal to take any, and go to the phone to call a cab. When I hang up I find Mark in our room.  
  
"Do you want to come with me?" I ask him.  
  
He shakes his head. "I don't think I should."  
  
"I'd like you to." I say reluctantly.  
  
He looks over at me and I bite my lip and look away.  
  
"Please, Marky. If she's going to. . ." I can't say it. "Well, I want someone else there."  
  
He gives me the most pitiful look, like he's the one most pained by this, but nods.  
  
"Alright, Roger. I'll go with you."  
  
Waiting outside for the cab I feel my eyes being weighed down by tears threatening to fall. I wipe at my eyes frantically and try to avoid Mark's glances in my direction. I hear him sigh and feel his arm go around my shoulders.  
  
"It's alright, Rog. It's gonna be ok."  
  
The cab pulls up outside our building. Mimi's dying. And in a few years? Months? I will be too.  
  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
  
Notes Continued: This is a pretty depressing chapter, isn't it? I wasn't really planning on bringing Mimi back, but I need something for filler while I wrap up the high school chappies and it sort of helps with Roger's fear of death now. So it all works in the end, promise. ha. Well I try. ;) thanks for reading/reviewing! You guys rule!


	56. He’s Not Everything

Notes: SORRY, SORRY and SORRY again! End of the school year, shitloads of homework. I'm overworked and undersexed. Lol. And I'm also evil, you can see my lovely attitude rubbing off in my writing. Thanks for reading/reviewing. I'll try to update sooner next time, but I've still got loads of shit to do. I'm sorry!! Enjoy anyway!  
  
Chapter 56 -He's Not Everything-  
  
Mark's POV  
  
I lay on my bed, holding my camera and staring at the ceiling. I smile to myself, thinking of Roger, who I had spent last night with at his house. He'll be here soon, my father on business again and Cindy staying with some friends, my mom told me she wanted Roger to come over for dinner. And a lengthy interrogation, I added silently. I kept accidentally on purpose not telling him about it for a few days, but when he called last night to ask me over, my mom picked it up and invited him. He doesn't seem as concerned about it as I am. At least Cindy isn't home either.  
  
I hear the phone ring and my mom knocks on my door.  
  
"It's Maureen." She calls out, opening the door and handing me the phone.  
  
"Is he coming?" She asks me, folding her arms.  
  
I nod. "He's at work, Mom, he'll be here soon."  
  
When she leaves I hold the phone up to my ear.  
  
"Maureen?"  
  
"Where were you last night?" You promised you'd be at my performance!"  
  
Shit. Maureen had gotten a lead role in a play by a community theatre. I had promised, but when Roger called I completely forgot.  
  
"Shit. Mo. . ."  
  
She sniffs. "I can't believe you! You promised, Marky! You promised me!"  
  
"Mo, I'm. . ."  
  
"No one was there! No one was there for me!"  
  
"I'm sorry, Mo. Really. I, I forgot."  
  
She sniffs again. "With Roger, again?"  
  
"Well. . ."  
  
"You never have time for me!"  
  
"Maureen. . ."  
  
"You don't, Mark! You spend all your time with Roger!"  
  
I roll my eyes. This is too much.  
  
"He is my boyfriend, Maureen. I'm allowed to spend time with him."  
  
"I'm your friend! We've been friends longer than you've known him, but because he suddenly pops up with his perfect hair and his gorgeous smile you just forget about me!"  
  
"Bye, Maureen."  
  
"No, Marky, don't hang up. I'm sorry."  
  
I roll my eyes again. "Bye."  
  
I press the power button and toss it on the floor. A minute later there's another knock on my door.  
  
"What now, Mom?" I ask, annoyed, getting out of bed and opening the door. Roger raises his eyebrows.  
  
"You're calling me 'mom', now? Well, now that's kinky."  
  
"You're sick." I tell him, smiling despite myself.  
  
"You're the one with the fantasies." He says, grinning. "I don't even want to ask how that one originated."  
  
"Oh, fuck you." I say, reaching out to him. He pulls me close and lays a soft little kiss on my mouth.  
  
"Later. Your mom was getting pissy when I got here. We should go downstairs."  
  
I nod and take his hand and pull him downstairs with me. My mom looks up when we go in the kitchen and offers us a weak smile. Although she liked Roger when she first met him, she really hasn't seen him since and I know she's unsure about how to talk to him now. She's been in a general state of irritation all day, nervous about Roger being here.  
  
The three of us sit down awkwardly at the table. She makes small talk with us about useless adult shit we don't care about, but we smile politely and agree with her because that's the easiest thing to do. It goes along fine for a while, all things considered, until mom asks Roger what he plans to do after high school. He takes a drink of water before he replies.  
  
"I'm gonna be a rock star." He says proudly.  
  
My mother can't hide her surprise. She raises her eyebrows and shoots me a look. I try to ignore her reaction.  
  
"You're a musician?" She asks.  
  
He nods. "Yeah. Play guitar mostly, but I do some singing too."  
  
"Oh." She says simply. "That's nice."  
  
The way she says it implies that she doesn't think it's very nice at all. Roger doesn't seem to notice or care about her tone or response. He drinks more water. He drinks a lot of water, I've noticed.  
  
"Roger," She says, after dinner. "What do you plan on studying in college?"  
  
He stares at her blankly. "College?"  
  
This isn't exactly what she was hoping to hear. "Yes, college. What do you plan on studying?"  
  
He laughs softly. "Not much. I'm not going."  
  
"Why not? Don't you feel you should continue your education?"  
  
"What for?"  
  
Shit. Shut up, Roger. I try to tell him with my eyes, but he's not looking at me, he's staring intently at my mother.  
  
"So you can land a decent job later?"  
  
"I don't need college." He says softly.  
  
"Well," She says slowly. She's not really trying to rip into him, but it's a firm belief of hers that marriage and children and a decent job, a list that 'doctor' and 'lawyer' are ranked highly on, however not 'rock star', are necessities of life and are what makes it fulfilling. "What do you plan to do, then?"  
  
I can see Roger getting irritated. Not much, not yet. Just the subtle way he squints his eyes and in his tone.  
  
"I told you, I'm gonna be a rock star." He shrugs. "Don't need much college for that."  
  
My mother shoots me another look and this time instead of ignoring it I stare her down. Damn you and your fucking scrutiny, mom. I look over at Roger again. And damn you for being so hung up on your damn dream. I slouch in my chair and try to ignore their talking.  
  
"Why are you so set on not going? Don't you think it would be a good opportunity to expand your horizons?"  
  
Now he's upset, I can tell, but he tries to hide it.  
  
"First of all, no, I don't. Second, I can't afford it anyway. Third, I couldn't go cause I just dropped out of high school."  
  
I look over at him in shock and anger. "You didn't."  
  
He gives me a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry, Mark. I can't do it again. I just wanted to get out of there so bad. The idea of another year," He shakes his head. "I can't handle it."  
  
I cross my arms and look away. I hear him sigh and I ignore him. Angry and hurt I stare down at the floor. Roger and my mother argue on for a few more minutes about the importance of education and then my mother loses her temper on him.  
  
"How are you supposed to take care of my son? You don't even know what's good for you!"  
  
He glares at her. "He can take care of himself. He doesn't need me for that."  
  
If she argues that I need someone to take care of me, I swear I'll walk out.  
  
She looks sad. "He's young. . ."  
  
Roger rolls his eyes. "I'm only a year older than him! How much more do you think I know?" He laughs cynically. "Apparently nothing since I'm not going to your fucking right wing college!"  
  
My mother glares at me. Her eyes say, 'this is what you bring home to me?'. Mine say, 'it was your idea'.  
  
"I don't appreciate your language."  
  
"I don't appreciate your fucking judgments!" He gives me a long hard look and stands up and walks out of the house, slamming the door behind him.  
  
My mother throws up her hands. "What was that? He didn't act like that when. . ."  
  
Angry at her, and at myself for doing nothing to stop it, I stand up.  
  
"Because you weren't fucking interrogating and judging him last time! Roger's different, and he's not everything you're going to like. But he's good, and he's good to me. And I love him." I start to walk to the door, hoping to catch him before he leaves. I hear my mom yell something back but I ignore her and throw open the door. I see his car pulling away. It's started to rain. I run after it, waving frantically, hoping he sees me. He does and stops the car, but doesn't get out. I run over to the passenger's side and knock on the window when I realize the door's locked. He sits still, his hands on the wheel, staring out the windshield. I knock again. This time he slowly reaches over and unlocks it, but makes no other movement. I climb in beside him, taking my glasses off and trying to wipe them clean on my wet shirt when I'm seating.  
  
"I'm sorry." I tell him, softly. "I didn't think, well actually I knew she'd do something like that, I told you not to go."  
  
He says nothing, but starts driving again.  
  
"Roger?" I try. "Roger, I'm sorry, ok?"  
  
Still nothing. I lose my patience.  
  
"Dammit! Look at me! I said I'm sorry! What do you want?"  
  
He looks over quickly, then back at the road. "That shit hurt, Mark. She thinks I'm not good enough for you."  
  
"Roger. . ."  
  
"And the worst thing is," He continues over me. "Is that you had nothing to say."  
  
"Roger, I know I should have said something. I did, once you left, I swear, before I came out. I didn't know what to say before, though. I didn't know what to. . ."  
  
"If my mom did that to you," He closes his eyes, shakes his head and starts again. "If someone, anyone, was ripping into you like that, I'd do something. I wouldn't sit there and fucking let you take it!"  
  
"I'm sorry!"  
  
"You're always fucking sorry!" He yells, the car swerving slightly.  
  
"Roger, watch the road."  
  
"Fuck the road."  
  
"Killing me isn't going to solve your problem."  
  
"What problem? I don't have any fucking problem! It's you and the rest of the world that has the fucking problems!"  
  
"The road, Roger."  
  
"Fuck you!"  
  
I glare at him. "Let me out."  
  
"It's raining."  
  
"I can handle some fucking rain. It's better than sitting here listening to you yell in an enclosed space. Stop. Let me out."  
  
"No."  
  
"Don't be an ass. Stop, Roger." I put my hand on the door handle.  
  
"No!" He says, reaching over and pulling my hand away. "You're not leaving me now."  
  
"I don't really want to be with you right now. I hate when you get like this."  
  
"I think I have a right to be 'like this'. You fucking don't."  
  
"What about high school? Dropping out without telling me?"  
  
"It's not your fucking decision, Mark! It's mine and I say I can't handle it!"  
  
"You just ran a stop sign."  
  
"Fuck off. It doesn't matter."  
  
"Dammit, Roger! You know how I get in situations like that! You know I can't take pressure well! You would say something because that's how you are! You can do shit like that, you like telling people off and sticking up for shit you believe in, but I suck royally at it and I hate doing it."  
  
"If you loved me. . ."  
  
"I do love you! And I've told you before, I don't need this kind of drama. If you're going to spend every day second-guessing me. . ."  
  
"What about you? I think I've got good reasons to second-guess you! You and your fucking fears and your fucking 'stigmas' and you fucking trying to break up with me because of shit I told you I could handle! Were you just looking for an excuse to get away?"  
  
"You say you can handle it, then why should my 'fucking fears' and my 'fucking stigmas' bother you? You care a lot more than you think you do about that shit!"  
  
"Forget it." He stops the car, reaches across me and opens the door. "Get out."  
  
"It's raining." I mock, taking off my seatbelt.  
  
"Just fucking get out."  
  
I get out of the car and start walking back to my house, my hands shoved in my pockets, trying to ignore that I'm getting soaked. I don't bother to wipe away the tears I feel running down my face. It's fucking raining after all. I've only walked about a block when I hear my name being called. I turn to see Roger running toward me. He catches me and pulls me into a tight embrace and kisses my forehead.  
  
"I'm sorry!" He says quickly. Kissing me again, this time a gentle little touch on my lips. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of it." He holds me tighter, kisses my hair. "I love you." He sniffs. "Jesus. Mark, I didn't mean it."  
  
I pull away just enough so I can take his hands and look him in the eye. I blink away the tears behind my glasses.  
  
"I'm sorry too." I say softly. "I know I should have. . ."  
  
He shakes his head. "It's not your fault. You shouldn't have to. It's fine. I'm sorry."  
  
I kiss him this time, pull him into another embrace.  
  
Relationships are exhausting.  
  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
  
Roger tries to ignore Maureen's outburst.  
  
"He's my friend too! And because of you I never see him!"  
  
Roger rolls his eyes. "You see him plenty. And why is that my fault? Ever think maybe he doesn't want to see you sometimes?"  
  
"Why wouldn't he want to see me?" She demands, folding her arms, glaring.  
  
"Oh please. You treat him like your fucking lap dog! He'd do anything for you and you're horrible to him. . ."  
  
"You don't treat him any better!"  
  
I cover my ears with my hands and try to block this all out.  
  
Roger clenches his fists. "I treat him better than that."  
  
"Fuck you, you do not. Plus you're stupid as shit! You don't know anything! Don't you think he deserves better?"  
  
"What, like you?"  
  
"Anyone but you!"  
  
"Stop it!" I find myself yelling, as much to my surprise as theirs.  
  
"Shut the fuck up Maureen! Don't talk about him like that!" I close my eyes and try to block out their stares. "And Maureen's not like that Roger." I sigh. "Can't you both just stop it?"  
  
They stare at me in silence. Annoyed and broken I stand up and leave. This is getting ridiculous. I hate seeing them fight more than I hate fighting with one of them. I love them more than anyone, and I want nothing more than them to be happy and get along. But neither really seems like an option.  
  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
  
Notes Continued: Fuck, I'm evil. Apologies again, blame my fuck job teachers. Bastards. Love you all! Thanks for reading/reviewing. Try to update sooner! ;) 


	57. Unable To Breathe

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Notes: Pretty regular update. Wasn't too long between this time. Only one chappie. Sad, but I think it's good. Even with Mimi. ;)  
  
Chapter 57 -Unable To Breathe-  
  
Roger's POV  
  
I swallow a few times, trying hard to catch my breath, hospitals make me so nervous and knowing what's happening here only makes it worse. The nurse I'm following turns another corner in this white maze of death. We pass a room full of balloons where a little girl lays bald and tiny on her white bed. It's always white. White everywhere and a sickly green colour in the cafeteria. Because that's certainly appetizing. Turn another corner, go through two sets of double doors. First room on the left. The nurse smiles at me and leaves. Oh fuck. I wish fleetingly that Mark had come with me, but he doesn't need to deal with this. Knowing he's down there for me is enough.  
  
I knock cautiously on the door and take a step backwards, clasping my hands in front of me and feeling the sweat gathering on my palms. An older Mimi, with some wrinkles and too large to fit in blue plastic pants, but not exactly fat, opens the door.  
  
"Roger?" She asks, an accent heavy in her voice.  
  
I nod because I can't speak and she opens the door all the way and beckons me in.  
  
"Mimi, chica." She says softly, laying a hand on her arm. "Roger."  
  
I stand against the wall, too terrified to move. I can't do this. She's so thin and tiny, are those bags under her eyes? Gentle creases at the corners of her eyes, her mouth? My little girl. Fuck, that'll be me. That'll be me. Will Mark back away from me like this?  
  
No. He wouldn't. Mark's seen me at my worst and then some and he still loved me. If Mark wouldn't do it to me, I can't do it to Mimi.  
  
Cautiously I take a step out from where I stand. Mimi's eyes flutter open at her mother's touch. She smiles weakly and her mother returns it. She says something in Spanish I don't understand, then gives me the same sad smile as before and leaves. Oh, she's left us alone. I stay where I am, unable to move. Unable to breathe.  
  
Mimi's eyes fall upon me. They're not empty, not like I feared. She's still there, but dimmer, fading. I bite back my fear and slowly walk over and kneel next to her bed. Her hand is hooked up to an IV so I'm careful in taking it. Her grip is weak, I hardly feel the little fingers struggling to keep hold of mine.  
  
"I'm sorry." She whispers.  
  
I sniff and blink a few times. "What for?" I ask, trying to keep my voice from shaking.  
  
"I love you."  
  
Oh fuck. "I love you too, baby." I bring her hand to my lips and kiss it gently. "What am I going to do without you?" I ask her.  
  
She laughs as best she can. "Don't be an idiot, you've never needed me. I've always needed you."  
  
I shake my head at her. "I would still be moping around the loft if it hadn't been for you. You got me out of that."  
  
She squeezes my hand. "You would have done it eventually."  
  
She looks over at the door, then back at me. Her other hand pats the bed.  
  
"Lay here with me." When I give her an unsure look her eyes turn pleading. "Please? I'm cold, and. . ."  
  
I hesitantly come around the other side of the bed and she moves over a little and when I'm lying next to her I pull her against me. I run my hand through her hair, hair I don't remember being so thin and light.  
  
"How long, baby?" I ask her.  
  
"I was waiting for you." She breathes softly.  
  
I say nothing. I can't.  
  
She's quiet for a while, all I hear is her soft shallow breathing.  
  
"Are you happy?" She asks.  
  
I look down at her. "What?"  
  
"Are you happy?"  
  
"Sometimes." I don't know what else to say.  
  
"Are you with anyone?"  
  
I don't want to say yes, I don't want to have to tell her it's Mark. I just don't want to have to tell her. Would she care if it were anyone else? Would she care that it's Mark? Is the way I think about Mark loving someone after me the same way that Mimi thinks about me loving someone besides her? Does she even think or care about it?  
  
"No." I mumble, shaking my head.  
  
"Roger. . . it's alright. I've accepted that we're over, and I wouldn't want you to be alone." She smiles up at me. "So. . ." She nudges my side. "Someone new?"  
  
"Well, yeah. . . I guess. Yeah."  
  
Mimi closes her eyes and leans closer.  
  
"What's her name?" She asks.  
  
This is too much. I cringe and close my eyes.  
  
"I, uh, Mark." I sigh. "It's Mark."  
  
"Mark?" She asks, confused. "You mean. . ."  
  
"Yeah. I, I'm with Mark now."  
  
"Oh." She adjusts her head on my chest. "Is he good to you?"  
  
I feel myself smiling. "Always."  
  
"Well, that's good." She says in a small voice. "Strange, but good. How did that happen?"  
  
"Well," I start, not sure how to tell her. "We used to be together, a long time ago. In high school. But ," I sigh. "Shit happened and we, we broke up."  
  
She bites her lip and looks up. "I wasn't the shit that happened, was I?"  
  
"No! No, it wasn't you. We just," I sigh again. "Completely different, babe."  
  
"Oh."  
  
There're a few moments of silence.  
  
"You love him?"  
  
Again I feel the corners of my mouth curving up. "Yeah. Yeah, I love him."  
  
"He loves you. I've seen that."  
  
I kiss her forehead and pull her closer.  
  
"You're still my girl." I tell her softly.  
  
She coughs weakly in reply.  
  
"You're beautiful." I tell her. "You know that? You're beautiful."  
  
"Even now?"  
  
"Always." I bite my lip and look down at her small, shaking form. "You're still the most beautiful girl I've ever seen."  
  
She gives me a sad smile and then I hear the door click open. I don't bother to look up, assuming it's her mother.  
  
"Excuse me, sir? You're going to have to leave now."  
  
I glare at the nurse, who barely notices.  
  
"Doctor's orders."  
  
I start to protest but I feel Mimi's weak grip tighten.  
  
"It's alright, baby. I'm fine."  
  
Reluctantly I let her go and drag myself out of the bed. I kneel beside it and take her hand.  
  
"I love you."  
  
"I love you too, Roger."  
  
They nurse makes a noise of impatience. I shoot her a glare and stand up, then lean over Mimi's bed and, ignoring that she could get me sick, kiss her gently on the lips. She gives my hand one last tight little squeeze, then lets go. I walk to the door and look back, and I see the old Mimi, my Mimi. Her thick, brown hair spread out over the pillow, the shining eyes smiling back at me and her soft full little mouth with the edges curved up so slightly. She gives me a weak wave and winks and the vision vanishes. I swallow because Mimi is sick and thin. I wave back and smile best I can.  
  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
  
I had fallen asleep with my head in Mark's lap, him running his fingers through my hair. Now I yawn loudly and sit up painfully, falling asleep on the hospital couches is never a good idea.  
  
I look back at Mark, who puts his arm around me and kisses my cheek.  
  
"How'd she look?" He asks cautiously.  
  
I shake my head. "Horrible. She's so thin and her hair has, like, gray in it or something. She looked old. And tired." I sigh and lean against him. "But beautiful. She's still beautiful."  
  
He says nothing. I didn't expect him to.  
  
"Did you sleep at all?" I ask him.  
  
He shakes his head. "Nah, I was worried about you. You looked so horrible when you came back. I was worried."  
  
I turn my head and lay a quick kiss on his lips.  
  
"I love you, Mark."  
  
"I know, Rog. I love you too."  
  
"You can sleep now if you want. I'll. . ."  
  
I see Mimi's mother walking alone down the hallway towards us. When she's closer I can tell she's crying. When she sees me I move to get up but she waves me away and keeps walking. I watch her go and then stand up and start back down the hallway to Mimi's room. Turn a corner, turn a corner, turn a corner, two double doors, someone shouts and then first room on the left.  
  
Same white bed. Empty white bed, clean and ready. I step into the room cautiously, someone still shouting and I stand next to the bed. I drag my fingers across the pillow and remember her face. I'd promised her I'd be there.  
  
I fall to my knees, feeling the tears gathering. I grip the side of the bed and let them fall.  
  
"Roger? Roger, they're pissed, you have to get out of here." Mark grabs my shoulders.  
  
I shake my head, feeling my shoulders shake under his grip. He kneels behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. He lays his head against my back.  
  
"Excuse me, sir? You're going to have to leave."  
  
I stand up angrily, inadvertently throwing Mark off of me.  
  
"That's what you fucking said last time! She fucking died and I wasn't fucking here!"  
  
"Sir. . ."  
  
"Fuck you!" I step away from her, from Mark. A little silver band sits on the table next to the bed. One of her rings. I step toward it, pick it up. Tiny. Wouldn't fit on my smallest finger. Mimi's ring. Little pink heart embedded in the cheap metal. Not real silver. Shitty ring from a toy machine at the Food Emporium. I shove it in my pocket.  
  
"When?" I ask the nurse. When she doesn't answer I yell.  
  
"When did she die?"  
  
"Last night."  
  
"Last night?" I ask in disbelief.  
  
"After eleven."  
  
"Was her mother here? Was somebody here for her?"  
  
For a moment sympathy crosses over the nurse's face.  
  
"Yes. Her mother was here. She just left, she's been filling out paperwork since. . ."  
  
"I saw her." I say, cutting her off.  
  
Mark walks over hesitantly and takes hold of my arm.  
  
"Come on." He whispers. "We should go."  
  
I sniff and look back at the bed. I push him off.  
  
"What do you care? You're probably glad she's dead! You never liked her anyway! You..."  
  
"Roger!" He says, loud and firm, and I stop.  
  
I stare at him for a long moment, the concern etched in his face, behind the thick frames of his glasses.  
  
"Marky," I hear myself say in a quiet and small voice. "She's gone."  
  
He opens his arms to me and pulls me into a tight embrace ignoring the insistent nurse at the door.  
  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
  
Notes continued: it'll get happy again, promise. ;) Thanks for reading/reviewing!! You guys rock!! 


	58. I Knew This Was Coming, But You Didn’t

Notes: Well I can officially say that school is over and after a weekend of rest I'm going to try to get writing again. I'm really sorry I didn't write for, what was it? Like, two weeks? Wow. I was desperately trying to pass junior year. My other story, No Need To Endure Anymore is on hiatus at the moment. I will finish it, I totally promise, but there's only like, two people reading it so it doesn't matter much. I just started a new original story all my own (characters and all) and I'm spending a buttload of time on that. But I promise it won't be a slow summer, I've got a couple other ideas too and plan to provide much RENTFIC to help pass these icky sweaty months. Thanks anyone who's been waiting for chappies! Sorry again, and I love you all!  
  
And oh shite, this is ending fast. I really didn't mean for it to, and I promise I'm not rushing it, but there's not much else I can do to make it longer, I kind of decided that in the last couple Mark chapters. Sorry for that, too!  
  
Chapter 58 -I Knew This Was Coming, But You Didn't-  
  
Mark's POV  
  
I wake up next to Roger late in the afternoon, for once not held tightly against him, but just lying on his bed, fully clothed, over the covers. I turn my head to look at him, but he's just sleeping. His eyes are closed, his breath coming in long, deep intervals. Inadvertently I reach out to touch him and my fingers graze his cheek and I allow my hand to rest on the side of his face. He moves slightly, but doesn't wake up. I pull my hand away and attempt to move closer to him. I rest my head against his chest and wrap my arms around his body. I feel him stir and push me away from him.  
  
"Mark, no. It's too hot for that." He mumbles, before turning over. I sigh and sit up. I look down at him for a few more minutes before getting up and making my way as silently as possible through his house and out the door. I shove my hands in my pockets once I'm outside. It's hardly fucking hot, summer hasn't even attempted to arrive yet. I try to ignore Roger's blatant rejection of me but I can't.  
  
He's been the center of my life for over a year. My best friend, my lover, the only person I've been able to really connect and bond with. He's moody and angry occasionally, but who isn't? He's also gentle and beautiful and funny and amazing with his hands. I love him more than anything or anyone.  
  
But apparently that isn't enough.  
  
I slam the door to my house when I reach it much later. I flop down on my own bed and pull off my shoes and jacket, then reach for the jacket again. Do I need it because it's really cold? Or is being without Roger making me shiver? We may be sorry for the things we said last week, but apparently that wasn't enough either. Maureen isn't sorry. I haven't spoken to her since.  
  
I try to sleep, eventually I feel my eyes closing and gratefully I succumb to my fatigue.  
  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
  
Someone knocks on my door. I try to ignore it, but eventually my mother opens it and sticks her head inside.  
  
"He's outside." She tells me, and closes the door again.  
  
I get up and go to my window. Sure enough, Roger's car is parked out front and he is standing a few feet away from the door staring at his feet, his hands in his pockets wearing the same clothes he had on yesterday.  
  
I shove my glasses on my face and make my way downstairs. I open the door just as Roger is turning to leave.  
  
"Hey." I say quietly. He turns around when he hears me.  
  
"Hey."  
  
He makes no other move so I continue. "Rog, yesterday. . ."  
  
"I'm an asshole, I know." He says softly, his eyes still downcast, but when he speaks again they meet mine and I know he's been crying. "I'm a total jerk. I just,"  
  
"Rog, what happened to your eye?" It's bruised and swollen and his lip is as well.  
  
"It doesn't matter." He says quickly. He stops and runs his hands through his hair, and tries to hide the fact that he's wiping his eyes as well. "I love you."  
  
I walk over to him and take his hands in mine. "I love you too. It's all right, really. I don't care. . ."  
  
He pushes me away. "You should care! How can you let me treat you like this? None of this is your fault. Nothing is ever your fault. I'm such an asshole. I'm just such. . ."  
  
"Roger, calm down!" I yell at him, grabbing his shoulders and holding him as still as I can. "Are you on something? You're not acting like yourself."  
  
He shakes his head and I believe him.  
  
"Then what is it? What's wrong with you?"  
  
He gives me his best attempt at a sad, watery smile. "I love you, Marky. I really do. I'll always love you."  
  
He leans toward me slowly and lays a gentle kiss on my lips, letting his hands touch lightly against my sides. Roger smiles again and starts to walk back to his car.  
  
"Roger! Roger, wait!" I call after him, but he just wipes at his eyes again and waves. He gets in his car and I watch him drive away, for the first time noticing the guitar and backpack in the backseat.  
  
I sit on the curb in front of my house and watch the street I last saw his car go down. It was pretty obvious to me he wasn't coming back. I waited for the tears but they didn't come. Obvious, but not fully realized yet.  
  
Hours later I get up and start walking. I shove my hands in my pockets. One of them hits something. I pull it out and it's a piece of paper folded a couple times over and thick with writing. I stop where I'm standing and open it. I start to read Roger's weak attempt at a formal letter.  
  
Dear 'Only Mark',  
  
Fuck, I can't believe I'm going to try to explain this in a letter. I just, fuck it all, I knew this was coming. But you didn't. And now I'm writing you a fucking letter to try to make up for it.  
  
I've never felt this way about anyone else before, which makes me sound so Hollywood teenage girl, but I don't care. I haven't. I love you. I really love you. It makes me feel better just saying it. The fact that there is someone like you in the world and that I love you and you love me makes me feel pretty fucking special.  
  
But I can't do this anymore, Mark. It's not you. Never. You've been the only thing keeping me here this long. I can't go back to high school. I can't go on to college. I can't get some shit job out here and slave for minimum wage the rest of my life. I'd rather be broke with my guitar than stuck in some fucking suburb or anywhere for that matter in a job I hate. I'm going to the city, I'm gonna be famous, watch Mark, I'll be famous.  
  
My band just fucking broke up. Two of them are going across the fucking country to California colleges and that fucker of a singer I've always hated is marrying his pregnant girlfriend. April's coming with me. She's gonna be my bassist, did I tell you she plays bass? And I'm going to find a drummer and we'll be a band and we're gonna be big.  
  
I feel like such a fucking asshole, Mark. I want you to come with us, but I know you won't. I know you'll always be worried about shit that could happen and whatever, but remember what I've always told you, Marky. And remember to create, not sell. Play with your camera some more, I think that's what you should focus on. No pun intended. Fuck SOH-CAH-TOA and all that other shit you're good at. That's not going to get you anywhere in life. But your talents, your art, that's what it'll be in the end.  
  
My dad came back, Mark. He came back and I'm hurting from it. You should see the fucker of a scar that I've going to have on my side. I know you saw my face. You should see my mom. She'll be in the hospital for another week or so. I feel like an asshole for leaving her too, but I can't handle this. He's in jail now. They'll probably put him away for a while, she's in pretty bad shape. And if she's lucky she'll get a restraining order or something else cool like that. Maybe, stop by the house and see her a couple times for me? She liked you, you know. She'd like it if someone came to see her once in awhile.  
  
Reading this over I don't even know if I have half of a good reason to leave, but I'm not a strong person. I crack under pressure and I'm feeling more pressure than I've ever known in my life right now. I have to get away from it. I'm sorry that that means I have to get away from you.  
  
I love you, Mark. I love you and I'm sorry. But I'm not gonna forget what you've given me. You don't even know what you've given me. So don't forget what I've told you too. And don't forget what you meant to me.  
  
Love, Roger.  
  
He had the fucking guts to sign it with love? Realization hits me and I fall to my knees on the pavement and start to cry. He's gone. He's left me for the city for his fucking dreams and with fucking April. He was fucking right when he said he didn't have half of a good reason to leave. I love him, his mom loves him. Any help he needed he could get. He's just too fucking afraid to ask for it.  
  
Don't forget I love you, don't forget what you meant to me. Apparently he could, if I was so easy to leave, so why should I hang around and bear the loss for the two of us? Don't forget me, I'll just be playing my guitar in some shit club in NYC with some shit band and fucking April afterwards. Don't forget I left with fucking April instead of fucking you. Don't forget April can play bass so she's coming with me but all you've got is your piece of shit camera so you don't fucking matter.  
  
On the back of the paper he scrunched the lyrics of that fucking song he sang for me once, that Elton John song. Suddenly the idea of that song doesn't seem romantic at all, it seems cold and cruel. Like an extra piece of my life he just stole away. I crumple the paper and shove it back in my pocket.  
  
I'm just pathetic enough to keep it.  
  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
  
Notes continued: Wow that broke my heart. Sometimes I really hate Roger. Was this realistic? Was it any good? I've been stressing over how to do this since I started the story, and I'm pretty happy with this. Well, happy is as happy does given the subject matter. Let me know guys, and I'm sorry I'm a bitch and didn't write. But at least Roger did! Heh, heh. . . nevermind.  
  
There's going to be an epilogue for Marky and one for Roger. Stay tuned! I'm going to write at least Roger's tonight. 


	59. Epilogue1 This Is Your Second Chance

Disclaimers and summary on first chapter  
  
Special Note: Joy2, your review made me cry. Thank you so much, you have no idea what that meant to me. And thanks everyone else for your reviews too. I can't live without them, you know. ;)  
  
Notes: Hard, hard, hard, hard, HARD chapter to write. My last Roger chappie, I wanted it to be good, but really had no idea what to do. I wrote most of it last night, revised the first part this morning and then wrote the rest just tonight. I hope I did ok. Thanks for reading!  
  
Chapter 59 -Epilogue for Roger- -This Is Your Second Chance-  
  
Roger's POV  
  
I wake up to Mark's touch. He's stroking my hair. He smiles gently at me when he sees I'm awake.  
  
"Hey."  
  
I groan in reply and try to roll away.  
  
"Hey, don't do that. Come here."  
  
I let him pull me back to him. He lies down next to me and wraps his arms around my body. I smile to myself and rest my chin on top of his head.  
  
"Are you alright?" He asks softly.  
  
"No." I tell him honestly. "But I will be, I think."  
  
We're silent together for a few minutes. I concentrate on listening to his breathing, and my own and matching the rhythms. Soon after, I realize Mark's fallen asleep. I smile to myself and pull gently out of his grasp. He moans softly, but doesn't wake. I slip out of bed and pull on a shirt and stretch out my back. I take my guitar and a pack of cigarettes I bought recently out of the case and quietly leave the room.  
  
Mark doesn't know I've been smoking them, and I don't intend for him to find out, but I'm sure it's inevitable that he will. It's not like before, when smoking was only the start of even worse mistakes I could make. My gateway drug. I sit outside on the fire escape and light one. I watch the smoke curl above my head when I exhale and stare down at the glowing tip. Eventually I tap it to knock off the ash, then place it back in my mouth and hold my guitar properly. I pluck a few strings casually, no real tune at all.  
  
"What are you doing out here?"  
  
I shrug absently, holding the guitar with one hand so I can hold the cigarette and exhale some smoke. Mark climbs out beside me and takes the cigarette. Instead of chucking it or reprimanding me as I suspected, he holds it up to his lips and inhales. I smirk at him when he coughs and go back to my guitar.  
  
"Shouldn't inhale unless you know how." I tell him.  
  
He says nothing, but I can feel his eyes on me. G chord. D chord. F Lydian scale. He moves closer until I feel his body press softly against mine.  
  
"Play something, Rog." He says.  
  
"We're outside, it's 6am. Don't you think that's pretty shitty of me?"  
  
He shrugs. "Thought you didn't care what people think."  
  
"Well, I wouldn't want to be woken up by some wannabe asshole with a guitar early in the morning. Would you?"  
  
"You're not a wannabe." He says quietly, laying his head against my shoulder.  
  
"Just an asshole with a guitar?" I ask him, taking the cigarette back.  
  
"Sure." He says, dreamily.  
  
He watches me pluck the strings and strum some random chords for a few minutes and then he speaks again, surprising me greatly with his choice of conversation.  
  
"What did you mean when you said that I didn't know what I gave you?"  
  
I look down at him in confusion. "What?"  
  
He doesn't move or speak for a few moments and then he digs in his pocket and pulls out a worn piece of paper. He opens it up and points at a line near the end.  
  
"This. What does this mean?"  
  
"Mark, I can't believe you kept this." I take it from him and read the line he points at.  
  
"What did I give you?" He asks softly. "What did I do?"  
  
"You don't know?" I ask him, surprised.  
  
He shakes his head and looks up at me expectantly.  
  
"I don't know, Mark. I just, I feel like a better person when I'm with you. Like the fact that I've fucked up everything in my life doesn't matter. You don't know what it's like to know that there's always going to be that one person that will love me no matter what, that doesn't care that at the end of the day all I am is me and that's good enough. I've always had that with you. I've never known that anywhere else, from anyone."  
  
"I know what that's like." He says softly, after a long pause.  
  
I blow out the last bit of smoke and stub the cigarette out next to me. "Oh fuck, Mark. I don't deserve you. I've known that forever."  
  
"You're too hard on yourself. Everyone makes mistakes, Roger."  
  
"What about you? What have you done? I don't see you making any life- shattering mistakes!" I pull away from him and hold my guitar defensively. "Why does it seem like the only person who ever fucks up is me?"  
  
"Roger. . ."  
  
"Oh and I fucking forgot, Mimi fucked up too and she died for it. She fixed her life and then fucking died a few months later. And I'm gonna die from it too."  
  
"Rog. . ."  
  
"Don't I get a second chance? I'm done, you know? I'm finished doing stupid shit and look what happens anyway. Congratulations, fucking AIDS."  
  
"Roger, don't be an ass." He says firmly, his tone forcing me to shut up. "You quit after you got HIV, not before. Don't try to glorify that." He puts his hand over my mouth when I angrily try to protest. "And don't you get it? This _is_ your second chance. Sure you won't live to be 100, but what more do you want? You could have died a long time ago, but you didn't. You're still alive, and you're still healthy. And best of all you've got me, and I've still got you."  
  
He takes his hand away when he sees I've calmed down. "Instead of sitting around feeling sorry for yourself, why don't you try to fucking appreciate it for once?"  
  
He gets up and climbs back inside and I watch him go, still holding the fucker of a letter I wrote to him back in high school. I've hated myself everyday since I shoved it in his pocket when I kissed him goodbye. I force myself to climb in after him.  
  
"Mark?" I call, once inside. I set my guitar down on the table and go to find him. He's sitting on the bed, staring at the floor. I watch him for a few seconds, then hold the letter I wrote up in the air and tear it in half. He looks up in shock.  
  
"I've never forgiven myself for leaving you with this." I tell him, kneeling in front of him and holding the pieces for him to see. He takes them from me gingerly, as if he's afraid to touch them.  
  
"Why did you?"  
  
I shake my head. "Why did I do any of the shit I've ever done? I don't know. But I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. Anything. I do appreciate you, and the fact that I'm still here. I know you don't think I do, but it's true. I thought my life was over after I left. When all that shit started to happen. When the band was officially over, when April was so fucked up she had to send me out to buy her more shit. The first time I shot up, I accepted the fact that I was probably going to start ending my life. I thought it was over and then you were here again. You were just here and you were beautiful and perfect and forgiving and I hated myself so much for leaving you. And. . ."  
  
He lays his hands on the sides of my face and kisses my forehead. "It's ok. It's ok, Rog. I didn't mean it, I really didn't."  
  
I shrug. "It doesn't matter. You need to know anyway."  
  
His eyes fall onto mine and he smiles. "Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen."  
  
I crush him against me in an embrace that probably knocks the breath out of him. He adjusts quickly and lays his head against my chest and I feel his hands making comforting circles of warmth over my back.  
  
"It's alright." He tells me quietly. "You're alright."  
  
I sniff and pull away from him. "I love you."  
  
He again smiles gently and brushes my hair back away from my face. He doesn't say anything at first, but kisses me softly on the mouth, his lips warm and sweet on mine.  
  
"Marky. . ."  
  
"I know, Roger. I love you too."  
  
_---Things we never said come together _

_The hidden truth no longer haunting me  
  
Tonight we touched on the things that were never spoken  
  
That kind of understanding sets me free---_  
  
Lyrics from Elton John and Bernie Taupin's 'The Last Song'. And of course that one line Mark says is from 'Your Eyes' by the same two gents. Forgive my Elton obsession. And Bernie too, I suppose. ;) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
  
Notes Continued: I'm pretty fucking happy with that. I hope you are too. I can't believe there's only one chappie to go. I promise Mark's won't be a sob-pity-Roger-hating fest. I've got some good ideas for that one. The only reason I'm not going to write it tonight is cause I've got original shit to attend to. Certainly you'll forgive me? Tomorrow, I promise. Oh fuck it all there's a chapter named that. How horrible. Well, thankies for reading, thank you very much. I love you all. Really. I really do.


	60. Epilogue2 I Can’t Just Forget Roger Davi...

Notes: Jump in time here to Mark's graduation and then some time later too. It's sort of unresolved at the end, but it has to be. And you know what happens eventually so I think it makes sense. It's not necessarily a 'happy' note, but it's not devastating either. Some good Mark angst, and some Mark 'figuring shit out'. All in all, I don't think it's half bad. Well thanks a bunch guys(girls?) really. Read my other notes at the bottom to truly hear me gush. ;)  
  
Chapter 60 -Epilogue For Marky- - I Can't Just Forget Roger Davis-  
  
Mark's POV -1 year later-  
  
I lean against the fence near the bleachers, listening to the principal call out the names of my classmates. One by one they proudly make their way across the little stage, shake some hands, get their diploma and sit down again. Real fucking cute. I light a cigarette and watch Maureen make her way up the stage. She looks bored with it all, not like most of these idiots who wave at their parents and smile big, praying to God they won't trip. Maureen rolls her eyes at the principal, and grabs her diploma without bothering to take the hand offered to her. She holds it limply at her side and goes to sit back down.  
  
I didn't bother actually going. I told my parents the wrong time so when they show up it'll all be over. I really have no interest in any of this shit.  
  
I look down at the bag by my feet. Now, what I want to do is catch a ride to the city, live in a shithole apartment and dodge the rent. What I imagine Roger's doing right now. Or else he's fucking April somewhere. Or playing in his shit band. It's really horrible I haven't gotten over him yet.  
  
Well, that's what I want to do. If only so my mom will stop asking about that boy I used to date, and Cindy will stop shoving her stupid engagement ring in my face whenever she comes over, and my dad will stop asking me in a quiet voice if I'm sure everything is all right. Don't worry dad, the 'bad influence' that made me gay in the first place is long fucking gone. You don't need to worry. Marky hasn't got any in over a year, from either gender.  
  
Amazed to find my cigarette one long tube of ash I drop it on the ground and stamp it out, then pick up my camera. I focus it on my classmates, wondering why I'm wasting good film on anything out here anymore.  
  
"Close on class of '93. Ambitious, anxious but most of all pointless."  
  
I turn the camera and zoom in on Maureen.  
  
"Close on Maureen Johnson, my only friend left in this shithole. Keeps telling me to 'move on and forget that faggot'." I sigh. "Doesn't seem to realize the gay slur doesn't help her cause." I turn the camera onto myself. "You can't just forget Roger Davis."  
  
I turn it off and shove it back in my bag and pick up the pack of cigarettes again and shake one out. I place it between my lips and then light it. They're onto the S's now, shouldn't be too much longer. They passed me ages ago, called my name twice then moved on. I'll go get the stupid thing afterwards, just run up and say I slept in or something. Couldn't hurt to have one I suppose. Especially if I'm living off of the land from now on. But I might need a real job once in awhile to support the arts.  
  
I've got a couple reels of film, they're not good, they're not bad. They're a start. Maybe Mo will come with me. Be nice to have someone to split the rent with, even if they're broke too. I dig a hand into my pocket and squeeze the folded scrape of paper I've kept in the same place ever since he shoved it in there a year ago. I've memorized it. I've handled it so often the ink is fading. I've analyzed it, and then over-analyzed it. And I still can't come up with a good reason why I hang on to it.  
  
Maybe because it's my last link to Roger. It's the last thing he gave me, what he left me with. He cared enough to say goodbye, or was it that he didn't care enough to make it matter?  
  
Whichever, all I have of him is a wrinkled and worn piece of notebook paper and the fading memory of when he last told me he loved me. I resist the urge to crinkle the paper and throw it away, I always do. I know I'll regret it later. Because someday I'll see him again and I'll have this letter and I'll ask him every question it gave me. And most importantly, ask what I gave him.  
  
Finishing this cigarette as well, I stub it out in time for the last person to sit down. I silently watch the farewell address and then as a cloud of blue hats flies over the crowd and the bleachers begin to empty I pick up my bag and head to collect my scrap of paper telling me and prospective employers I finished high school.  
  
"Marky!" I halt where I stand, waiting for Maureen to catch up. She's eagerly pulling her blue gown off, revealing tight blue jeans and an even tighter pink shirt. Definitely not following the school's strict 'formal wear under the gowns' policy.  
  
"Where were you? They called your name twice, you didn't show up. Did you forget?" She looks amused, but also annoyed. "I had to suffer through this, you should have too."  
  
I wave my diploma at her. "I overslept. Sorry I couldn't be there to keep you awake."  
  
"And entertained." She glances down at my bag. "What's with the bag?"  
  
I shrug. "I'm thinking about getting out of here."  
  
She stares at me blankly. "You're going to leave? Now?"  
  
"Yeah." I challenge. "So what?"  
  
"Why now? I mean, what's the point? You're not rebelling against the system by dropping out, you're eighteen so you're not a runaway, and Roger. . ."  
  
"Fuck you, Maureen. Why do you keep bringing him up?" I ask her angrily, dropping the bag.  
  
"Because that's what this is about! That's what it's always about! It's always Roger! It's always been Roger! He's gone, Marky! He left you. You could have gone then. . ."  
  
"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about! I couldn't have gone then! He didn't want me to go!"  
  
"Did he tell you that?"  
  
"He just never asked."  
  
"Maybe he thought you wouldn't want to."  
  
"Fuck, Maureen! One minute you're calling him a fag and telling me to forget him and his fucked up mind games, and the next you're defending him to my face!"  
  
She crosses her arms and glares at me. "You're not being fair to him, Mark."  
  
"I'm not being fair to him? Was it fair to leave me in fucking Scarsdale while he goes to play in his fucking band in fucking New York?"  
  
This is how most of our conversations end up. She's right about one thing, in the end it's always Roger. He affected me so much while I knew him, that not knowing him changed me completely, and for the worse. This is different than avoiding social activity and being withdrawn like I used to be. Sometimes my violent mood swings remind me of Roger's. I didn't see too many of them, but when I did it could change my perception of him.  
  
"No, Mark, it wasn't. But. . ." She sighs. "Nevermind. C'mon, let's just go get something to eat or whatever. I have my mom's car!" She says, pulling on my sleeve. "Let's talk about this before you do something stupid."  
  
"I'm not going to do anything stupid." I attempt, but I've already picked up my bag and am following her to her car.  
  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
  
So I'm bitter. I'm bitter and angry and vengeful and everything I feel like I missed out on during my early teens. Sometimes I hate Roger. Usually I hate Roger.  
  
But sometimes I don't.  
  
Sometimes I can remember just exactly what it was that allowed me to open up to him. I can remember him wanting to listen to me talk about anything, even if it was just me bitching about my father, or my sister, or life. He never demanded anything of me. All he really wanted was for me to love him.  
  
So I did.  
  
I remember how he'd roll his eyes at me when I tried to get him to focus on his schoolwork. Or how he'd actually pout at me when his band was playing a club and he wanted me there. And I remember his tired, half-open eyes when he'd smile sleepily and tell me he loved me after making love to me for most of the night.  
  
You can't just forget Roger Davis.  
  
I remember his gentle prods to get me to hold his hand in public, and how sometimes he'd pretend it didn't bother him when I wouldn't. I loved watching him play his guitar. I loved watching him on stage. And I loved him.  
  
I'd never been as captivated by anyone as I was by him. No one had ever been able to get to me as well or appeal to me as much. And I loved him for that.  
  
But I hate that I wasn't enough.  
  
I feel Maureen lay her hand over mine and I give her a reluctant smile. I'm angry, I'm bitter and I'm vengeful, but I'm not a complete monster. Yet.  
  
"Marky, don't leave." She begs. "You told me your dad said he would send you somewhere nice for college. Anywhere. Why don't you try that? You could always drop out if you hate it."  
  
"Why should I, Mo?"  
  
"Because you have the opportunity to. My parents won't pay for it since I refuse to study law or medicine, and I'm not going to spend the rest of my life paying it off, so fuck it. But I would if I had the chance. Just for fun." She winks. "Think of all the fun you could have with those stuffy college bastards."  
  
I give her a tight smile, hoping she'll know to shut up. She picks up on it after a moment, but then starts again.  
  
"Why do you want to go to NYC so bad? To find Roger?"  
  
To be honest, the thought had only crossed my mind once. Or twice. A minute.  
  
"Maybe." I tell her.  
  
She sighs. "Marky, I love you, but give up already! He obviously doesn't want you."  
  
I stare at her blankly before I realize what she's said and what sense it makes. He doesn't want me. He left without me because he doesn't want me. That's all. How simple. All this time speculating over his reasons and it was only because he didn't want me after all.  
  
"You're right Mo, he doesn't want me." I tell her, then stand up. I throw a ten down on the table and walk away. We're really not that far from my house anyway. Or the bus station, come to think about it.  
  
Left to the bus, right to home. Roger or college? Well, Roger doesn't want me. I don't think the colleges would either, but it could be a couple more years of speculation before I'd have to know for sure about Roger.  
  
I start to the right.  
  
I can't forget Roger Davis, but I have to learn to love him again before I just go and find him.  
  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
  
-2 years later-  
  
I sent a letter to Maureen. She's been living with two other girls in NYC for awhile now, but I know she hates them both. I'm moving there in a week to live with Benny, my roommate from Brown. Not a bad guy, has a knack for finding money anytime he needs it, and for getting himself out of a fix. He says his buddy Collins has a place in Alphabet City. Sounds classy. Benny says Collins won't care that I'm inviting her too. The more people there are, the less the rent is. Or at least more people to share the blame when it can't be paid.  
  
She calls me a few days before we move.  
  
"Marky, you know you might see him."  
  
"It's a big city, Mo. What are the chances?"  
  
"You're not coming here looking for him anymore?"  
  
I shake my head, forgetting she can't see me. "No. All that anger, that shit I wanted to say to him is gone. All I have now are questions. And if I see him, I'll ask. If I don't, I'll have my questions." I shrug. "Either way it's fine."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
I nod. "Yeah. I could handle it either way, I think." But I feel faint, like I always do when I'm lying.  
  
"Marky. . ."  
  
"Alright! I'm still miserable! It's been three fucking years and all I've got to show for it are a bunch of tormented self-pity films and a long string of one night stands leading to nowhere."  
  
"You have one night stands?"  
  
"You're not helping Maureen."  
  
"Marky, if you're not ready. . ."  
  
"I'd be ready to see him, but I'm still not ready to pursue the idea of a life without him."  
  
"Look, Mark I'm sorry but Stacy needs the phone. We can talk about this some other time, alright?"  
  
She hangs up before I can protest. I know Stacy doesn't need the phone. If she did Maureen wouldn't care. As long as we were talking about her problems. But she doesn't need my problems, she never did. Roger was the one that listened.  
  
I close my eyes and massage my temples with my fingertips. Maybe the possibility of finding Roger again in NYC isn't that crazy. I can't just forget Roger Davis, so I just have to pray he can't forget me either.  
  
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  
  
Notes Continued:  
  
Holy fuck, we're done? I can't believe it! Gah, I hope this epi suited you. I know most of you were pining for a happier one. Well, thanks so much for everyone who's reviewed, I love you all, I really do. You guys have no idea how much I appreciate all your comments, your suggestions and your praise. Thanks for your patience during my long breaks, and thanks for all your reviews and your love.  
  
I'll be back soon, promise. Once I get my ideas sorted and decide what I'll be trying next. I'd really love to try RENT humour, but I've never really been a 'funny' writer. But I love it so I might give it a try anyway, even if it sucks. I've got a couple possible ideas for new chapter crazies, and a couple little shorties too. And I haven't forgotten about my other WIP, but I need a little time to think about where the fuck that one's going. But I promise it won't be hiatused forever. Well, thanks again you guys(girls), I really love you and thanks for reading my epic!! :D:D 


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